


Mansion Mania

by gerardsjuarez



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, M/M, Murder-Suicide, Paramour Mansion, The Black Parade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 02:23:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18273866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerardsjuarez/pseuds/gerardsjuarez
Summary: “I - I saw a woman! In my room!” He panted, “She was staring at this portrait of - of… I think it was of herself! Oh my God, I hope she didn’t possess me.”“Ray, chill out.” Bob came to the defenses.“No! You guys gotta help me get that picture of her outta my room. I think that’s what she was after.” He pointed at the object in question.Gerard leaned forward to look at the portrait. It was a pretty woman with a 20s style haircut, black hair, and bright blue eyes. She wore a dinner dress in a bright shade of red. She appeared to be staring into his soul, the shiver down his back told him. Everyone silently agreed that the painting had to go. It was Bob and Gerard who moved it to a vacant room. He stared at the painting long after Bob left to join the others. On the frame, a date and name were engraved just under the woman.“Emily Richard, 1925.” He read aloud.





	Mansion Mania

**Author's Note:**

> After wayyyy too long, this amazing thing I've written has come to life. I've always adored the rumors of what really happened in the Paramour Mansion and ran with it. Thank's so much to my bef (best editor and friend) Elle for helping me with this.
> 
> Want a playlist to match your reading experience? Look no further for I hath made one for you: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/41WiFqZaIzQIYxJ04HRDNa
> 
> Enjoy if you dare!

_ "When we arrived in Los Angeles, we moved into an extremely haunted mansion called 'The Paramour.' This house had a huge history of odd and mysterious things occurring inside. Some of us laughed it off; others (cough, cough, me) found this house frightening. As luck would have it, I would wind up in the scariest (and later found from past residents) and most haunted room. To add to it, there was a single blue light bulb hanging from the ceiling that didn’t provide light, but an eerie glow. Dogs barking at thin air, doors slamming in front of people (Frankie and Gerard) and bathtubs filling with water when no one was home (Bob)." -Mikey Way _

 

The countryside was beautiful. It was the transitional period between summer and fall when the leaves were still going on green but the air had a nasty bite to it that made even the hardest of asses grab a windbreaker just in case. The rain pattered lightly against the roof of the taxi, creating a soft, dull rhythm that made half of the car’s passengers fall asleep. But no matter how much Gerard wanted to get a little rest before never sleeping again, nothing but his leg fell into slumber. 

 

Mikey stirred next to him, his short black hair sticking up in weird directions. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. Gerard had earlier held one of his hands - when they first departed from the airport and hopped into the taxi - and squeezed it, bringing his brother back from Dream World bit by bit. Frank was in the front seat biting his chipped black nails and staring harshly out the window. Gerard kicked the seat lightly and he whipped around. They shared uneasy smiles. 

 

He stretched his body to look out the back window, sighing loudly in relief when he saw Ray and Bob conversing passionately in the musical equipment truck behind them. It had been a truly strange scenario, them driving the vehicle. The original driver got sick in the parking lot and Bob, like the good man he was, insisted he drive it. The two looked very excited at something in the distance. Gerard turned around and saw that Mikey and Frank were doing the same. There it stood, looming across a field. 

 

The Paramour Mansion. 

 

The name itself made his spine tingle. He’d heard of the stories that happened in there. He didn’t exactly believe in ghosts but the thought of the unknown scared him. He glanced over at Frank. He’d gone completely still, hand frozen next to his lips. Frank was usually the brave one, the one who made the others feel better about situations. But looking at him now with that barely-there expression of terror, Gerard suddenly felt ill.

 

They pulled up to the estate and the car jerked to a stop, giving everyone - the driver himself included - a minor case of whiplash. He apologized quickly in a weird accent Gerard had never heard and helped them get their bags from the trunk. Gerard had refused to get out of the car but then Frank had opened his door and offered him the Nightmare Before Christmas umbrella he had brought with him. He gave Frank a brief smile before stepping out and staring at the building. It was bigger than expected.

 

He’d seen pictures online and the ones the record label had shown to them before they came out but they didn’t capture the size. Or age. It wasn’t a Victorian castle or anything - that’d be a lot cooler, a small part of Gerard told him - but it was still  _ old _ . Ivy climbed a few walls and snaked its way around window sills as if trying to get inside like weird eukaryotic octopuses. The building was rather impressive and from what he could see, the grounds around it were even more so. 

 

The taxi driver - Stephen, he finally remembered - handed Frank a suitcase which was then handed over to Gerard. His hands were cold. Mikey came around the car with his duffle bag, looking very pale. Gerard watched as Ray and Bob got their things as the dudes who were traveling behind them started to take the equipment inside. The taxi drove away after being paid and now it was just 5 guys all in a line, wearing sweatpants and hoodies, and all looking tense. 

 

_ So much for being the most dangerous band in the world _ , Gerard thought, holding back a chuckle. 

 

A tall, thin woman with shoulder-length gray hair approached them with a smile, “Hello, you must be the My Chemical Romance boys, yes?”

 

“That’s us, yeah.” Frank sniffed, hiking his bag up his shoulder.

 

“Excellent,” she smiled, clasping her hands together, “I’m Adelaide, the groundskeeper.”

 

They went down the line, introducing themselves.

 

“Follow me then. It’s lovely to meet all of you.” She turned around swiftly on her heel and walked briskly towards the estate, “I shall give you a brief tour before showing you gentlemen to your rooms. Unless, of course, you’d all like to sleep in the same room?”

 

A chorus of no’s rung out among them. Adelaide seemed pleased that her joke struck a chord with the otherwise stoic group of young men. She opened the door for them and they filed in. Gerard was the last to enter but certainly was the first person to gasp at the interior. 

 

It was beautifully sinister. 

 

The hallways were long and drafty with pretty but odd wall fixtures. The ceilings were high in certain places while others made him feel as if he should duck. He poked his head around the corner to see where they’d be writing their music. The ballroom. Wonderful, truly. The place was a lot more beautiful inside but maybe that was just the bone-chilling rain talking to him. 

 

Adelaide showed them each their rooms. Thankfully, their rooms were all down the same hallway. From left to right it was Frank, Mikey, Ray, Bob, and then Gerard at the very end. Gerard found himself thinking dramatically and comparing the rooms to chapters in a book. Frank was the strong start, powerful and intimidating. Mikey was the rising action, interesting and thoughtful with his words. Ray was the climax, full of genius at its very peak. Bob was the falling action, there to help keep everything together nicely even when things had just turned bloody. And then there was Gerard, the epilogue. He was there to tie everything together and to end it on a note that kept them wanting more. 

 

He was just about to say something when he realized he was quite alone. His door was open and he gazed down the hallway. His band mates’ doors were wide open as well. The door remained unclosed. There was a record player but no television, a set of chairs and a coffee table, and a queen sized bed pushed against the middle of the wall. It was the type he’d seen in fairy tale movies with the curtains pulled back that were only for mere decoration. Leading off to the room was a small bathroom with a tub, sink, and toilet.

 

Gerard was almost finished unpacking when he saw Frank standing in his doorway, wearing his stage clothes. He gave him a confused but interested look, putting down his own suit jacket, “Why are you all dressed up?”

 

“Craig wants pictures of us on the grounds before things take off.” He explained, running a hand over his hair.

 

Gerard mocked the action unknowingly, “I had a feeling there was a specific reason as to why they forced me to pack a set of stage clothes.”

 

Frank laughed, a happy sound, “I can already see the article titles.  _ Getting Goth at the Paramour: MCR’s Latest Feat. _ ”

 

He couldn’t help but smile, shucking off his damp sweatpants and replacing them with black jeans, “Why does that sound like an article title that’ll be written?”

 

“Because the media is predictable,” Frank snorted, watching as Gerard dressed, “The article will quickly discuss how we unfortunately lost our minds in the process of submerging ourselves in our darkest album yet and then talk about how fucking hot we look in our gothic surroundings. Want me to help?”

 

“Hmm?” Gerard watched him nod towards him. He looked down and saw his tie lying loosely around his neck. He was so caught up, he’d forgotten he was shit at tying ties, “Yeah, please.” Frank came over and started working on making it look perfect as always, chin tilted up the slightest bit while he was at it. Gerard huffed, “One day we’ll have articles that actually matter with pictures of us merely as visuals, not something people ogle at. I don’t even care if the author is bashing our album into the ground just as long as they have articulated points and don’t mention how our looks impact our music.”

 

“Nah, they’ll still - what did you say? - ogle? You think we keep you around cause you’re a good lyricist?” Frank teased, tightening the tie around Gerard’s neck, “We keep you front and center cause the boys and girls think you’re pretty.”

 

“You aren’t helping.” Gerard mumbled, throwing on his suit jacket.

 

Realizing his joke might’ve insulted him, Frank touched his upper arm, making him pause, “Look, Gerard, I hate the press, too. The only good journalists out there are the ones who praise us in feminist magazines for not being total douchebags; that’s just how it is. But I’ll be fucking damned if you aren’t one of the most - most  _ ingenious _ people I’ve ever met. Pretty or not, your ideas still get me hooked. I mean, we’re at the fucking  _ Paramour _ . You think anyone following someone around just to look at them would do this?”

 

Gerard smiled the first genuine smile of the day, “You always know what to say.”

 

“Comes with time,” Frank grinned back and patted him on the arm once before leading him to the door, “Now, come on. The guys are already outside.”

 

The rain had swept past rather quickly, merely leaving each tree and shrub a brighter shade of green. The photographers made them do weird things with the gardens and a big tree - Gerard remembered Frank being ordered to climb between some of its exposed roots and Frank refusing. But it was soon over. Gerard watched from his bedroom window as all the trucks and cars drove away. He didn’t like that it was just the band and the groundskeeper in the mansion. He wanted Brian to be there. Hell, even his  _ mother _ . With only six people in such a large place, it felt empty.

 

He decided to creep towards Ray’s room to steal one of his records. He hadn’t anticipated that there would be a record player in his room but Ray was usually prepared for everything. He wasn’t in the room, thankfully, as Gerard dug through his backpack and snatched his Ziggy Stardust vinyl. He wouldn’t use it as much as Gerard would, that was for sure. Mikey poked his head out of his room when his brother briskly passed it but other than that, he stole the record scott free. 

 

He had the needle almost in position when there was a yelp in the hallway. He jumped but didn’t scratch the record, dashing into the hall to see Ray with his back pressed against the wall, staring wide eyed at his room. The others came running, too, all with the same panic on their faces. Gerard touched Ray lightly on the shoulder and he began to ramble to them without being asked what was wrong.

 

“I - I saw a woman! In my room!” He panted, “She was staring at this portrait of - of… I think it was of herself! Oh my God, I hope she didn’t possess me.”

 

“Ray, chill out.” Bob came to the defenses.

 

“ _ No _ ! You guys gotta help me get that picture of her outta my room. I think that’s what she was after.” He pointed at the object in question.

 

Gerard leaned forward to look at the portrait. It was a pretty woman with a 20s style haircut, black hair, and bright blue eyes. She wore a dinner dress in a bright shade of red. She appeared to be staring into his soul, the shiver down his back told him. Everyone silently agreed that the painting had to go. It was Bob and Gerard who moved it to a vacant room. He stared at the painting long after Bob left to join the others. On the frame, a date and name were engraved just under the woman. 

 

“Emily Richard, 1925.” He read aloud.

 

“Ray was right for wanting her out of his room,” Mikey made his presence known, standing next to Gerard, “I can feel her eyes watching us. At least his room has an actual lightbulb. Mine is just blue.”

 

“I wish I didn’t believe in the paranormal.” He sighed, turning to leave, hearing his brother follow, “What are we going to do now? Ray thinks he’s possessed and I’m hungry.”

 

“Ray’s already on making us a homemade dinner.” He chuckled, “Something Frank told him about that involves… squash and parmesan cheese.”

 

“That sounds oddly good.”

 

“And I don’t really like squash.” Mikey agreed, nodding.

 

…

 

The hallways of the Paramour were even more eerie at night. Gerard merely wanted a glass of water and got hopelessly lost, peeking down each corridor before stepping down it and treading lightly on his feet. He wasn’t scared or anticipating anything. He was just… cautious. And with that cautiousness, he finally found the kitchen and got himself a water bottle from the fridge. With the fridge door still open, he chugged about half the bottle, taking a breather before he choked on the last gulp. There was a blur of a person standing in the kitchen doorway.

 

He coughed and sputtered, his chest tight and rattling with each intake of air. The person who had been standing there, he came to realize, had been Frank. He was currently trying to get Gerard to stop coughing and shoved another bottle of water into his hand. He took a drink and was magically fine. With his hand gripping the counter, he breathed heavily for a good few moments while Frank’s hand rubbed his back soothingly. He stood straight again and ran a hand over his short hair; he was never going to get used to not being able to run his hands through it.

 

“Why did you do that?” Gerard rasped before clearing his throat.

 

“I couldn’t sleep and I heard you.” He explained, “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” he said clearing his throat again. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

 

“I mean, how can you?” Frank gestured around them, “Ray saw something during the day, I can’t imagine what goes bump in the night.”

 

“We choke during the night apparently.” Gerard said solemnly, staring at the water in his hand.

 

“Uh.” 

 

“What?” He asked, looking up at Frank to see him biting back a laugh. Gerard pushed him playfully, “ _ Jesus _ , not like that. Oh my God.”

 

“Sorry,” he wheezed, not meaning it in the slightest, “sorry. You just looked so serious. Um, anyway. So you stole Ray’s Bowie record, huh?”

 

Gerard leaned against the counter and took another sip, “I needed some noise.”

 

“My room doesn’t even have a record player. You should turn it up so I can hear it at the end of the hall.” He grinned hopefully.

 

Gerard rolled his eyes, “The fact your room is that far away means that the guys would hear it, too. All the more reason  _ not  _ to.”

 

“I know it’s far.” Frank pouted.

 

He was given an amused look, eyebrow raised and all. Gerard pushed off the counter and walked past him, “You can listen to the record with me since we can’t sleep,” he turned to look at him and added, “if you want.”

 

He nodded, “These nights are gonna get lonely and fast.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

They walked down the dark halls a little more confidently than say Gerard would by himself. Frank was the protector, smaller size or not. He could take care of anything that would try to maim them. Though, his thoughts were interrupted when Frank put a hand on his back, claiming the hallways were making him feel claustrophobic. So much for the great protector of all. Maybe he was the Great Pretender.

 

When they passed the rest of the guys’ rooms, they all seemed to be snoring, asleep. Maybe Mikey passed out some sleeping pills, who knew. Frank was himself again when Gerard closed his bedroom door behind them. He was talking about the history of the house or something and how the acoustics in his bathroom would make for a cool sound, if they could lug the audio recording equipment in there. Gerard hadn’t even been in Frank’s room yet; he didn’t have any opinions on the matter. He sat on his bed cross legged while Frank pulled one of the chairs over to sit next to him. Gerard wondered why on earth he didn’t just sit on the bed with him but maybe it made him uncomfortable. He could understand.

 

The sound of piano rung through the room and Frank’s eyes lit up, leaning over the edge of his seat to speak to Gerard, “I like to think Bowie was a psychic and wrote this song about you.”

 

“Lady Stardust?” He questioned.

 

“Well, okay. Just the first few lines: ‘People stared at the makeup on his face/Laughed at his long black hair’. Before this new look, that’s exactly what you were. ‘Sang his songs of darkness and disgrace’? We aren’t exactly a cheery band. And that whole part about boys standing on chairs to watch Lady Stardust? Is it merely a coincidence that I did just that at the first MCR show?”

 

Gerard blinked, “You have a point.”

 

“And - and the rest of it, right? Stuff about people laughing at you at first before we got big. They hated how we looked until they heard what we could do. They wanted to know our names when we became something, you know? That’s basically… the story of you.” 

 

“I never thought of it that way.” He admitted, leaning back on the bed.

 

“Well, and then there’s the whole thing about you, in the song, being desired by both women and men.” Frank said in a quieter pitch.

 

He merely laughed, ignoring the other’s tone of voice, “What can I say? Universal heartbreaker.”

 

The conversation drifted off after that and Gerard decided to sketch some ideas while Frank stared at the record player as the album progressed. He did end up drawing him sitting that way, hanging off the side of the old timey couch and staring blankly as the vinyl spun. He did add some things to it, though. He gave him some weird makeup on his eyes, upside down crosses hanging from his lower lashes. When he was finished, he basically had a Frank version of the Jersey Devil. He wore a leather jacket with deadly spikes on his shoulders, a pair of horns protruded from his skull, and a forked tongue was maybe poking out of his mouth. 

 

“Hey-” he cut himself off, looking up to see Frank asleep and curled up on the couch.

 

Gerard sighed and smiled at him. They hadn’t really hung out like they used to, even if it was just listening to music together. He kinda missed it, hence the drawing, probably. He took one of the spare blankets off the bed and put it over Frank so he didn’t catch something. He whispered a good night to him even if he was already out cold and started the record over again. There was no way he’d sleep without noise.

 

_... _

 

The first week was fine. A few choruses were written and Mikey supplied enough verses to keep everyone sane. Gerard hated the hallways at night and Mikey would often make fun of his fear of them. He wasn’t afraid, just cautious. Bob really gave his all, even for recording shitty demos. It was really comforting, oddly. Even late at night, you could hear Ray busting out solos in the ballroom, echoing and beautiful. Sometimes you could hear Ray and Frank working on something together while the rest of the band took a break, their parts that should collide awkwardly fitting together like puzzle pieces. He loved his band, he’d tell himself every day. He loved his band.

 

It was during the second week that the spooky happenings started. The band had come back from a quick visit into LA to eat at a Chinese buffet and the lights wouldn’t turn on, now matter how hard they tried. Even Adelaide - who had been staying in her quarters - didn’t know what was wrong. However, the mystery was solved when Gerard fell and hit his head on the stair banister, the lights buzzing back on seconds later. 

 

Ray saw the woman again, this time when he went to check on Gerard in his room. Gerard had been sitting on his bed, passed out midday with graphite on his cheek while the woman from the portrait stared at him with - and he quoted - a look of pure hatred on her face. Gerard couldn’t sleep for two nights after that. 

 

Gerard didn’t want to think about her and decided that he’d shower away the thoughts. Probably the best idea considering he hadn’t done much cleaning since he got here. He took a bath last week, it was fine. Sort of. Gerard used the bathroom connected to his room and even though it wasn’t Frank’s with the great acoustics, it still sounded cool. While he was jamming to the crank radio he found in his closet, his voice sounded extra cool. In a empty concert hall type way. They definitely needed to figure out how to record something in here.

 

He reached over for the shampoo and quite gracefully caught himself from falling flat on his ass. That would’ve been painful. He heard the door handle move and called out to Mikey but no one answered. He was just about to peer around the shower curtain when he lost his balance and landed on his foot. He was fine for a shocked two seconds before he cried out in pain. He thought he broke something, the pain scratching and ripping inside of his ankle. It was jolt after jolt of  _ fuck _ as he tried with all his might to stand back up.

 

“Gerard!? Are you-” Frank paused. Gerard could see his silhouette through the thin shower curtain.

 

“Fell,” he croaked out, “fucking - ow, fuck - help,  _ Jesus _ .”

 

There was a lot of rustling and then the curtain was pulled back. Frank gave him a towel, avoiding looking at him and helped him to his feet, trying his best to comfort him. Frank was cool and steady and Gerard felt like he was going to throw up from the pain in his currently very swollen ankle. He glanced briefly at their reflection in the full body mirror in the bathroom and almost laughed, it was so pathetic. 

 

Gerard was soaked and completely naked, the only thing covering himself was a towel carefully held over his crotch, the other arm over Frank’s shoulders. Frank looked pretty pale in the face, actually.

 

“Gerard,” his voice cracked.

 

“What?” He looked over at him, wincing just a bit.

 

“Look,” he squeaked.

 

He looked over at the mirror hanging over the sink and nearly dropped the towel in his hand. There she was, Emily, glaring at Gerard with the same hatred Ray described to him. She looked furious, ears red type of angry, jaw set and eyes blazing. Frank snapped out of his scared standstill and grabbed at Gerard’s towel, helping him wrap it around his waist before they bolted out of the bathroom and were met by the rest of the band. 

 

“Mikey,” Gerard breathed, sort of throwing himself at him so Frank could explain what just happened.

 

“You’re wet.” He said, holding his brother awkwardly.

 

“What can I say? Ghosts are - fuck,  _ ow _ \- exhibitionists.” He cried out, moving past Mikey to balance himself on the wall.

 

He thought maybe the comment would make Mikey laugh but more or less he looked concerned, paying attention to what Frank was saying now. He gesticulated wildly, eyes big and panicked. Gerard slumped against the wall and pulled his towel up, suddenly aware he was quite naked and  _ shivering _ .

 

“-sage up in here or something!”

 

“Frank,  _ again _ , that’s paganism.” Bob replied, unamused.

 

“At this point, I’ll become full witch if it means none of us get possessed by this mother-” he paused, “by this ghost.”

 

“She’s not gonna hurt you. She loves you.” Mikey crossed his arms.

 

“What?” Frank shot his attention to him, quickly glancing at Gerard who probably looked very much in pain and very cold, “What does that mean?”

 

Ray stepped forward, “Well, it makes sense. Have you gotten hurt since we’ve been here?”

 

He blinked, “No?”

 

“Maybe he looks like a dead son or something.” Bob offered nonchalantly, looking confused when everyone gaped at him, “I saw it in a movie once.” He went on self consciously, shrugging.

 

“You know,” Gerard grunted, his ankle basically on fire at that point, “as much as I love this whole Scooby-Doo teamwork thing, I feel like I’m about to  _ die _ .”

 

“Shit!” Frank exclaimed, “ _ Fuck _ , come - come here.”

 

Gerard gladly leaned on him as they made their way to Gerard’s bed. The rest of the guys went to go get Adelaide to see if she knew how to treat sprained ankles.

 

Frank got him a change of clothes but he put them on himself, balanced between a wall and a dresser. There was no way in hell he was letting people dress him, not even his own  _ brother _ . He thought it sweet that Frank was still nearby if he needed help but - no. It was already embarrassing that he almost cried, he didn’t want to have to rely on others to do a basic task.

 

When he announced that he was done, Frank turned around and frowned at him, helping him onto the couch. He sat next to Gerard, not seeming to mind when he leaned against Frank, breathless and constantly wincing.

 

Frank stood up when Adelaide entered the room, worry etched onto her face, the guys right behind her. She knelt next to Gerard and worked silently, ignoring the string of muttered curses as she wrapped his ankle with Ace bandages.

 

She patted his knee when she stood up, “I should’ve told you about Emily.”

 

“That she was a bloodthirsty poltergeist?” Frank offered with a snappy tone.

 

She sent him a small, timid glance, “She grows attached to those who resemble her late husband Bennett.”

 

Gerard locked eyes with Frank, being handed some painkillers by Ray, “Short, loud, and black hair?”

 

“Tattoos, as well.” She sighed, “There was a TV show cast here a few months ago and there was a man that fit the description. Everyone but him was… spooked by her.”

 

“And you’re telling us this now?!” Bob gestured to Gerard, “Our lead singer nearly got horror-movied in the shower!”

 

She glanced around the group worriedly, playing with the belt on her dress, “I’m quite aware and I sincerely apologize. As long as you boys take the right precautions, everything will be fine.”

 

“Like what?” Ray asked curiously, taking the empty water cup from Gerard.

 

“Oh,” she reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out several crosses, “Cliche, I’m aware, but they’re made of salt. Two things spirits don’t like. As long as it’s on you, Emily can only look at you.”

 

She passed them out to everyone. It must’ve been that weird himalayan rock salt because when Gerard held it up to the light, it shimmered pink. He looked over to Mikey who was holding it up to the light also. They made eye contact and shared an amused expression.

 

“At least it’s not paganism.” Bob huffed when Adelaide left.

 

…

 

Gerard awoke to Bob tossing a cane onto his bed. He told Gerard they were going to be working on album stuff all day. They kinda needed it, though. They’d been lenient for the past couple of days so Gerard could heal a little but apparently Bob was fed up with babying him. But did he really have to throw the cane with such a velocity? He grumbled and sat up, cane in hand. Ray was standing in his doorway when Bob left, claiming he had to deal with Frank. 

 

“Do you need anything?” Ray asked as Gerard began to dress for the day.

 

“No,” he groaned when he had to put in his pants, “thank you, though.”

 

“Fucking - Bob! Ow!” He heard Frank’s voice echo through the house.

 

Gerard tried to peek around Ray, “What did he do, exactly?”

 

He chuckled, “Stole a jacket.”

 

“Drama queen.” He mumbled, throwing his own jacket on.

 

Ray helped him down the stairs when he needed extra support, and he made it to the ballroom without tripping. Bob was sort of chasing Frank around the perimeter of the ballroom with a smile on his face and a drumstick in hand. Frank was chortling, skipping around with a black hoodie in his grasp. Mikey was recording the whole thing vexingly. Gerard looked at the scene and told Ray he did, in fact,  _ love _ his band.

 

“Will you love us when Bob kills him?” Ray chuckled back at him.

 

“He won’t.” Though, Gerard didn’t quite believe himself, voice emitting a worried tone.

 

The chase didn’t last long because, as fast as Frank was, Bob managed to trip him and snag the hoodie back, putting it on pointedly as the man on the floor giggled up at him. Gerard hobbled over to the equipment and leaned against the mic stand for a second as everyone got set up. For the past couple of days, they’d been touching up draft three of the song Kill All Your Friends. Ray seemed to know everything, including what would sound the best for others’ parts of the song. 

 

Gerard eventually got breathless on his feet and sat on the floor, microphone in hand. Frank was sitting across the room with his guitar and the recording equipment, hyper focused as he tried to figure out why his part sounded the slightest bit off. Mikey and Ray were talking about the bassline - which had previously gone under ten revisions - and his brother nodded along though he could tell he didn’t understand. Gerard was humming and watching Bob doze off as he watched the guitarists going at it.

 

Eventually, Frank figured out his part and called Ray over to investigate. Mikey stared at the paper they had been scribbling tabs on with a look of… horror? Annoyance? Disgust, maybe? Mikey seemed to be having a lot of trouble with his bass lines when they would write and revise songs. He’d find one he was comfortable with but then the song would change up so much he’d have to write one a little more complicated than the last. It would grow him as a musician, Gerard knew, but seeing him look so stressed made his chest ache.

 

They moved on to another song. This one had a bass solo in it but, like mentioned before, the song had changed tempo and the once easy-to-play live solo turned into something ‘maybe only God could play,’ as Mikey said. But then the grandfather clock in the hallway struck one pm and they unanimously decided that a lunch break would keep them sane. 

 

Lunch wasn’t anything special - just some sandwiches - but everyone treated it like the last supper or something. Frank made everyone this really cool egg and avocado sandwich. Gerard probably wouldn’t have thought of it on his own and generally loved Frank’s cooking - even if it was just a simple sandwich - so the meal was fairly enjoyable. It would’ve been more so if Bob and Ray weren’t having some kind of burping contest. He was all for that stuff - Mikey and him had done it plenty of times as kids - but not when he was eating. 

 

Frank sat next to Gerard and accidentally tapped him when crossing his legs. He offered his mug, “Want some? It’s coffee.”

 

Gerard perked up, “Hell yeah,” and took a drink before handing it back to Frank. Mikey cleared his throat and the brothers made eye contact. He had a weird expression on his face, mouth full and eyebrow raised. Gerard merely shrugged confusedly and went back to his food, feeling everyone else looking at him, too. Fucking weird. It was like they all knew something and he didn’t.

 

A hand gripped his arm as everyone but the Way brothers left the kitchen, “What?”

 

“You seemed to have a bit of a moment during lunch.” Mikey started off in an accusing tone.

 

Gerard racked his brain, frowning, “What?” He repeated.

 

“You and Frank?” Mikey offered, sighing and rolling his eyes when Gerard simply stared at him, “He shared his coffee with you?”

 

“Oh,” he paused, “I do that with you. Hell, he’s shared with you!”

 

“Just…” Mikey huffed, running his hand through his hair, “let’s see how Ray changed up my part in the song.”

 

“Is that what he was working on during lunch? It looked like algebra from where I was sitting.” He thought aloud, watching Mikey make a face.

 

“I know.” He grumbled.

 

Afterward, they tried to find a melody that matched Frank’s genius lyrics and Ray’s amazing riff but everything Gerard supplied either only fit the rhythm of the words or the ups and downs of the riff. Mikey even tried to help even though he couldn’t really sing all that well. Gerard grew tired of the failures and settled on a half-assed melody that fit somewhere in the middle. They all seemed okay with it but it wasn’t good enough.

 

“Gerard, that sounded fine.” Frank reassured him, “It fits the lyrics and the riffs really well and it kinda sounds… haunting.”

 

“But it’s not good enough!” He snapped, realizing all too late that he hurt Frank’s feelings or - or  _ something _ . He looked heartbroken or confused or worried or all of those things at once, taking a step back and shooting a look at Mikey. Gerard sighed, “Thank you, Frank, but it isn’t what the song needs. It’s not what I envisioned. Your lyrics are beautiful, pack a punch, and they won’t have that effect alongside a godlike guitar riff unless the melody allows it to. You ever heard a song where the lyrics were good but the melody made it lose success?”

 

“Well, yeah. That’s how one of my bands broke up.” He huffed, crossing his arms.

 

“Exactly!” He came forward and put his hands on Frank’s shoulders, “I can’t have a subpar melody when everything else is perfect.”

 

“This record isn’t going to be perfect, Gerard.” Ray tried to convince him.

 

He snapped his attention in Ray’s direction, pulling away from Frank, “I’m tired of everything not being what it needs to be.”

 

Bob put a hand on his shoulder, “Think of the Beatles, okay? They literally messed up in final recordings where you could hear some cursing at their mistake but still going on with it. And they’re famous! A fucking classic, Gerard. This record isn’t going to be played for - for…?”

 

“For all the angels and God or whoever.” Frank stepped back in, “And plus, we have time to change and fix and switch things up. It doesn’t need to be perfect  _ now _ .”

 

Gerard jerked away from Bob’s hand, “I need to cool off.”

 

He wobbled uneasily out of the ballroom, making a loud clicking noise with his cane as he made his way to his room. He turned up Bowie on the record player and cracked open the window so he could smoke on the window ledge. There was the faint sound of the lawnmower in the distance and he knew Adelaide was the one behind it. He wondered how on earth she got stuck up here all alone to be the sole soul to take care of the mansion. Maybe she was a ghost, a part of him offered. He shivered and closed the window when he was done, hearing a knock at the door.

 

“It’s Frank.” He called when Gerard asked.

 

“It’s unlocked.” He said back.

 

Frank looked at him with a smile and closed the door, pausing by the record player before he was given permission to turn it down. Frank sat next to Gerard where he was on the window bed, the small space feeling even more crowded with another person there. 

 

“If you’re here to talk about what happened, I don’t want to hear it.” Gerard said flatly, flicking his lighter.

 

“I’m not.” He paused, “Mikey’s having a hard time with his bassline.”

 

“On which song?”

 

“All of them.” Frank sounded miserable, “I wish I could help him but what good will it do him?”

 

“When this is all said and done, he’ll be a better musician, that’s for sure. You’ve seen the edits Ray’s been doing to his tabs, right?” He laughed airily, no real humor behind it, “I’d be upset, too.”

 

Frank gave him a look.

 

“What?”

 

“Practice what you preach.”

 

“Oh, fuck you. I don't want to listen to it.” Gerard let his head hit the wall, changing the subject, “I drew you as the Jersey Devil. Wanna see it?”

 

“Hell, yes. But this isn’t over, Gee.” He warned him despite the smile on his face.

 

…

 

Gerard walked past Mikey’s room to give back Frank some edited lyrics but paused, hearing a familiar sound. Mikey wasn’t really one to tell others exactly how he felt in the moment. Gerard hated that his brother chose to suffer alone instead of ask for help or at least for someone to be there. The red bass sat in his lap while his music was scattered around him on the floor, his head in his hands. He was crying and trying his best to muffle the sound. Before he knew what he was doing, Gerard was walking into the room.

 

Mikey shot his head up, eyes red and puffy, “Go away.”

 

“Mikey, you shouldn’t do this to yourself.” He found himself saying, cringing at the earlier conversation of practicing what he preaches.

 

“I’m the bassist of My Chemical fucking Romance, I’ve got this covered.” He said before getting up and forcing Gerard out of his room, slamming the door in his face.

 

He sighed dejectedly and walked over to Frank’s door, knocking lightly. He opened it for Gerard but he didn’t go in. He just wanted to sleep and forget about ghosts and how upset his brother was. Frank seemed to understand and took the pages of lyrics from him, giving him a quick hug of comfort. 

 

“Night,” Gerard muttered into his shoulder.

 

“Good night. Try not to beat yourself up so much.” He smiled at him and closed the bedroom door behind Gerard.

 

...

 

The first night terror happened that very night. He knew it was a dream, he knew it was, but the voices and the situation seemed so real. He could feel the pain, he could feel the ghost’s fingers digging into his shoulders and shaking, he could feel his friends’ blood on his face, and he could feel his throat go raw from screaming. But then the blood faded from view and he grabbed onto the dream, trying his best to reach out to his dead brothers, crashing back into reality with a sudden and painful gasp of air. His eyes shot open and saw Frank on top of him, Ray to his left, Mikey to his right, and Bob in the background, looking scared.

 

His breathing was loud, fast, and ragged, sounding more like small yelps than breathing. He looked at all of them, shooting his head this way and that before Frank got off of him and Ray wiped the sweat from his brow. And suddenly, he started crying.

 

“Gerard, hey. Hey, it’s okay.” Ray whispered softly, making him sit up.

 

He couldn’t say anything, he was so wrung up. His chest ached with the sadness of his dream. He thought he’d lost everyone. He thought he was alone forever. He tried to touch all of them at once and ended up just awkwardly groping their clothes in an attempt to get them closer. Bob was at the foot of the bed now which was good enough for Gerard. Eventually he gave up with the whole touching everyone at once thing - he only had two arms - and pulled Ray in for a hug.

 

“You - y-you all died!” He stuttered out, “Th-the ghost… she got you.” He pulled away, wiping at his face, “She got all of you.”

 

Mikey sat on the edge of the bed next to Frank and put a hand on Gerard’s knee, “You don’t have to tell us.”

 

“I - I need to.” He choked out, going into a small coughing fit afterwards. With Ray’s hand on his shoulder, he continued, “Emily got Ray first. She - she broke your neck in front of me.”

 

Ray shifted uncomfortably and touched his throat carefully, glancing at the others. Gerard ignored it and listed off the other deaths, “Mikey’s guts were ripped out, Bob got a drumstick shoved through his head, and - and…” Gerard looked up at Frank, teary eyed and hurt, “Frank… she didn’t... The room was - was covered in… in blood. She only left the - the tattoo on your neck.”

 

Frank’s eyes were stinging, too, when Gerard reached up and touched the scorpion on his neck. He cried harder when Frank pulled him in for a bone crushing hug, latching onto him like a leech. It was totally embarrassing to everyone else watching, seeing Frank and Gerard grip onto each other like fucking  _ children _ . He could feel Frank’s hand touch the back of his head, an old habit that lacked the pull of fingers in long hair. Gerard was gripping onto his shoulder blades, sobbing into his neck.

 

“She won’t get us.” Frank said fiercely and Gerard automatically believed it, “She especially won’t get you.”

 

But even with the words of reassurance, he didn’t leave his room for two days. Well, he ventured out at night or early in the morning to eat but the other members didn’t see him, only heard him. The night terrors continued but the door was always locked. Gerard wanted to deal with them alone. He couldn’t have a repeat of the first night terror. Being shaken awake had hurt him more than it had helped. If they hadn’t woken him up, he wouldn’t have cried and he wouldn’t have had to admit he was struggling. The only downside to 48 hours without human contact was that his mind had to create entertainment for him.

 

That’s when the voices started. 

 

There was only a couple of them. There was a woman who bothered him only at night, claiming he couldn’t have Bennett. He mostly ignored that one and talked aloud to the only voice that proved to be good company. It was so weird at first but it was truly entertaining. He’d discuss music with it and it’d encourage Gerard to draw and write lyrics. 

 

Lady Stardust was playing, “Your friend was right. About this song.”

 

Gerard laughed, looking up from his drawing of a woman with a gas mask on, “Frank was right?”

 

“Indeed.” 

 

He tossed his sketchbook to his side and flopped down onto his bed. He wished he could see the voice instead of just hear it. He could very well venture outside of the room and talk to his brother or Ray or someone, but he was angry. Angry at himself, at Emily, and at his brain for this newfound insanity. He hadn’t heard voices since he was 14, why would it start again randomly now?

 

He was frantic, “Where’s the cross?”

 

“On the dresser.”

 

He bounced up and winced, catching himself on the bedframe and hopping over to his cane. Fucking hell. The cross was on the dresser but… but it wasn’t pink anymore. It was pitch black. When he held it up the light, it was opaque. No more pink shimmer, no more seeing through. Maybe that was why all these things were happening to him. Maybe that’s why his brain made him create the Emily-esque voice and an unknown encouraging happiness. 

 

He decided to keep the crystal in his fist anyway, even if it was useless to him. He went to bed when threats started filling his head, repeating over and over.

 

“He’s mine, fool. He’s always been mine! If you choose to love him, I choose to kill you. If you choose to love him…” The voice faded as he fell asleep.

 

He had been asleep maybe an hour and his dream was fading in when there was a sudden jolt back into consciousness. He paused in his bed, hearing the same rustling noise again before clutching the knife under his pillow and taking it into his hand. He pointed it in the direction of where the noise was coming from.

 

In front of him was none other than Mikey, looking pale and terrified with Gerard’s knife up to his throat. He didn’t lower it, however, when he saw it was his brother. It could very well be a trap. Maybe Emily was trying to get to him via his own flesh and blood. He stayed firm, jaw clenched.

 

“It’s me, Gee.” His quiet voice struck a familiar heartstring, reaching up carefully to take the knife away from him.

 

He jerked away from his touch and tossed the knife aside, “Is it?”

 

“Yes,” he assured him, getting off of his knees and standing up just to sit on the bed next to him, “this sounds so fucking stupid but… but I’m kinda freaked out. This place isn’t helping my creative juices or whatever. If anything, I’m just fucking stressed all the time, you know?”

 

Gerard did know, “Yeah.” He replied, scooting over so his brother could have the other half of the bed.

 

“Why haven’t you come out?” Mikey asked once they were all settled again, “I’ve kinda been worried sick. I hear you talk a lot. And… have your night terrors.”

 

Gerard scowled at the ceiling, “Angry at myself.”

 

“Is this because of the melody thing?” He rolled over to face Mikey.

 

Gerard shrugged, “It started it. I’ve had nothing but writer’s block. I shouldn’t… hide from it.”

 

“Exactly.” Said Mikey exasperatedly, “You understand that we all love you, right? We’re here for you, as fucking cheesy as it sounds.”

 

Gerard sighed and turned away from him, pulling the sheets up to his chin, “I love you, Mikey, but I’m too tired to think. I’ll come out tomorrow.”

 

“Alright.” He sighed, satisfied, “Night.”

 

…

 

Gerard came out of his room and the first thing that happened was some kind of family meeting. It was stupid and he was forced to admit that his cross wasn’t working and that the voices in his head were like angels and devils on his shoulders. It was then decided he wouldn’t be left alone. Like, ever. Someone had to be with him when he bathed, when he slept - everywhere he went, someone had to be with him. 

 

“You can’t be fucking serious.” 

 

“I am, Gerard.” Bob stared at him, “We all are.”

 

“It might seem tedious and stupid but it’s for your own safety and for our sanity.” Ray sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and pacing, “Just do it for us. If you need alone time for… certain things, we’ll give it to you.”

 

“Oh,” he laughed sarcastically, “well, I’m so glad my brother doesn’t have to watch me beat off.”

 

“Gerard!” Mikey yelled.

 

“Sorry!” He said in the same tone as his brother, “I just want to take a fucking shower. I smell like shit.”

 

“Who wants shower dibs?” Ray looked around the room.

 

There was an awkward pause of avoiding eye contact until Frank sighed and stood up, “Since no one else will.”

 

Gerard sighed. He was kind of expecting Bob to volunteer and he really didn’t want him to, “Thanks.”

 

“‘S whatever.” He mumbled, leading him out of the kitchen.

 

The nice thing about Frank volunteering was that it wasn’t the first time he’d seen him like that. Yeah, there was the whole Emily mirror shower thing that happened, but he’d been with him through thick and thin and had seen way worse things. He’d seen him get so drunk that he fell asleep on the pavement and shit himself so… they were kinda past having limits in their friendship. 

 

Gerard got his things from his room before leading Frank to the bathroom that had a shower. He seemed a little bummed that he was stuck having to watch one of his friends shower - he didn’t blame him, it was probably boring. He sat on the floor while Gerard was washing away two days of insanity, fiddling with his camera phone. He was probably texting his family to let him know he was okay. Gerard should probably do that, too. His mom was kinda concerned when she looked up what’s happened in the mansion. 

 

Frank gave him his towel when he was done and remained outside the door while he got dressed. He was kinda done having people watch him get dressed. He didn’t mind it if he was changing and they were talking but Gerard was in pain and naked and probably possessed so no more private shows. For now. He chuckled to himself. 

 

“What?” Frank asked when he stepped out of the bathroom, nothing but smiles.

 

“Oh, nothing.” He grinned.

 

The rest of the day was fairly mundane. Ray watched him draw for a good two hours, Bob had to stand outside of his bathroom while he took a whiz, and Mikey called dibs on being on Gerard Watch that night. A little bit of songwriting happened but not enough that it was noteworthy. Apparently Mikey was downright refusing to play some of the fancied up basslines that Ray offered. Gerard kinda knew how to play guitar and bass and when he tried to play one of the songs, even  _ he _ felt like crying. 

 

Mikey slept on the couch and Gerard took to his bed. They talked for a while until Bob pounded on the wall and told them to shut up. They were kinda being loud, Gerard didn’t blame him. It wasn’t even a productive conversation, really. They were just talking about dogs. (Okay, it was a little productive. It was fucking  _ dogs  _ for crying out loud.)

 

… 

 

“Get up, loser.”

 

“Frank, don’t call him a loser.” Ray said and Gerard could hear the eye roll.

 

“I’ll call him whatever I want as long as he wakes up.” He replied and suddenly there was a jolt of pain in Gerard’s ribs.

 

“Fuck!” He sat bolt upright, blinking away a dreamless sleep, “What the hell?”

 

“It’s 2 in the afternoon. Mikey thought you were dead.” Frank looked annoyed and sounded the same, “We’ve been trying to wake you up for an hour.”

 

“Oh!” Ray started, “I forgot. I’m supposed to meet Mikey in the ballroom.  _ Make sure he gets out of bed. _ ”

 

Frank put his hands up defensively, “I will, Jesus.” He turned back to Gerard when the door closed, “You really have been out a long time. No night terrors, though. Mikey says you were good on that part.”

 

Gerard watched him sit on the edge of the bed, “It felt good to sleep for that long and not have any problems with it.”

 

“I can imagine.” He smiled in a weird way, crawling up onto the bed, “I’d like to be the one to sleep in here tonight, if that’s okay.”

 

“Yeah that’s…” he trailed off, Frank climbing on top of him, “Frank?”

 

He didn’t say anything, just smirked down at him. This was weird. They’d never really done anything like this and it seemed a little more than ‘just friendly’. And it made him feel weird and dirty and like a million people were staring at them. He tried to get up but Frank had him pinned. He repeated his name and yet again, no response. Frank’s hands carefully ran up his sides and rested at Gerard shoulders. Oh, that felt interesting. He didn’t like it but he did? It was hard to explain. It didn’t feel like Frank. He’d usually be softer and more talkative. Not like they had done something like this before but whenever moments got more intimate he was a lot… different than right then.

 

He moved his hands up to Gerard’s neck and when he blinked, it was no longer Frank. Emily’s hands squeezed his neck with a brute force, choking him. He couldn’t breathe, gasping but getting nothing. He clutched at her hands and tried to pry them off but couldn’t. But he clawed at them, trying and trying. He felt like he was going to die. He probably was but he’d go out with a fight. He kicked and thrashed and tried to scream for help.

 

“Gerard!” He heard Ray’s voice, yelling.

 

He tried to find Ray but he wasn’t there. He sounded so close but he wasn’t in the room. Was it a trick? Was Emily playing with him? He tried one last time to get her hands off of his throat and succeeded, gasping so loud, it was basically a scream. The room was empty and dark and the clock on the wall read 2 am. It was a dream. A dream. He sighed and looked over to Ray. He was on night duty and caught him out of the worst night terror yet. Sure, he had witnessed his band mates, his mother, and even his fucking grandma die at that fucking ghost’s hands but not being able to breathe in a dream and in real life was one of the most mortifying experiences. 

 

“Hey,” Ray said soothingly, coaxing him back to a lying position, “are you okay?”

 

“I think so.” He repeated, “I think so.”

 

He was kneeling next to Gerard’s bed, “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

 

He knew he could trust Ray but suddenly found himself pausing, “Uh, Frank was coming on to me and he ended up being Emily in disguise. She choked me and I couldn’t… I still feel her hands on my neck.”

 

Ray blinked, “One heck of a dream. But are you sure you’re okay?”

 

His eyes scanned the room and landed on the floor, “What’s that?” He squeaked.

 

“Hmm?” He turned to the lump on the floor, “Oh, that’s Mikey. He’s… he’s been sleeping on your floor for about a week now, haven’t you noticed?”

 

“I - I haven’t really noticed much of anything lately.”

 

…

 

Gerard decided he’d work on a new song. Sure, they had a few that needed some coming back to but he was on a kick with this song. It was about the voices, about the dreams, about all the things he keeps feeling. He sorta poured his soul out into the lyrics and when he gave them to the rest of the band, they ran with it. They got a fairly good demo recorded in just a few hours. 

 

He was feeling fairly good, too. His ankle wasn’t killing him, he felt clean, and his lunch was good as always, thanks to Frank. He even watched the rest of the band mess around in the heated pool after dinner, sitting on the edge and sticking his feet in. Frank had splashed him a couple times with a grin on his face and Gerard had tried to kick some water back at him. In the end, he was in the pool in his regular clothes, wet and unamused, glaring at Frank and Bob who probably conspired to get him swimming. (Which he can’t do, dumbasses.)

 

Frank tossed a towel at him, “It’s my night to stay with you. We’re all gonna watch Robin Hood: Men In Tights before that, too.”

 

“I love that movie,” Gerard held back a gush, “but I… uh. Um, you know how there was like one exception to me being alone?”

 

Frank paused, “I do, yeah.”

 

“Well… do you think it’ll help? I mean, I’ve read that it relieves stress and that’s how I feel like 90% of the time I’m awake.” He laughed awkwardly. 

 

It was odd. He used to be able to talk about the grossest, most sexual things with Frank but after that stupid dream, it felt weird.

 

“I mean,  _ yeah _ . For like seven seconds.” He joked and Gerard offered an amused snort, feeling oddly warm even though he was soaking wet, “Are you sure you want to do that, though? So far when you’re alone, bad things happen.”

 

Gerard paused. He had a point. Worst case scenario Emily chops his dick off. But she didn’t really have that much physical power. Yet. So far she could only mess with his mind and give him weird sexy friend-to-ghost choking dreams. God, that’s gross. He wished he had normal dreams again like he did when he was a teenager. At least then it was normal un-paranormal dreams about Billie Joe Armstrong. It was really weird when they met, that was for sure.

 

“I know, I do. I just…” he looked down the hallway, “You know when it gets pent up and you start getting weird dreams?”

 

Frank nodded, “Unfortunately. Is that what’s happening? Ray said you had another night terror.”

 

“Not all of them are about… dying.”

 

A pause.

 

“I don’t want to know.” Frank visibly shivered.

 

Gerard chuckled and put the towel over his head, drying what little hair he had, “Probably best you don’t. I’m just kinda willing to do whatever now. Even if it means I get to cross off ‘jerked off in a haunted house’ from my bucket list.”

 

Frank laughed at that, “Oh my God. Whatever, dude. Lemme just walk you to your room at least so Mikey doesn’t yell at me.”

 

“Deal?” He chuckled, slightly confused.

 

Truth be told, he was kinda feeling… in the mood. The stress relief thing was both true and an excuse but add water, dropping temperatures, and memories of past dreams and you’ll get someone who has a semi coming on. It would be cool if he wasn’t so lonely since two people make more heat and he was  _ freezing _ but for now… he’d do just fine on his own.

 

Frank left him at his bedroom door, going into his own room to change, no doubt. Gerard dried off a little bit more when he was changing into some non-soaking clothes. He was enjoying being able to dress alone and keep his thoughts merely to himself. It was peaceful and he totally tainted the quiet serenity of it all by blissing himself out via masturbation. He hadn’t done it for a while because of his girlfriend but then she… sorta turned into a huge red flag. She was super controlling and was super jealous of the guys. It was stupid and if she was going to make him choose between her and the band… well, he’d choose the band. Plus, she was kind of a fake out anyway.

 

He felt pretty floaty afterwards like anyone would and pulled his pants back up. His reflection in the mirror was looking a little ruffled as expected. After washing himself up, he tried to fix his hair so he didn’t look so suspicious, even though his whole band probably knew why he was alone. He did feel less stressed, even if it was just momentary. As he stared at his reflection, his thoughts went back to his dream. 

 

Emily was fairly adamant about keeping Frank all for herself but why did she keep targeting Gerard out of all the other guys? It wasn’t like they were together and Emily had to get through Gerard to get to her precious Bennett lookalike. Frank was all hers. 

 

Even through all the rooms in between, Gerard could hear the faint sound of scratching. It sounded like someone was taking a knife to the wall. He stepped out of the bathroom and went towards his door and tried opening it, only for it to be slammed shut in his face. He jumped backwards, air caught in his lungs as his heart slammed against his chest. The pain in his ankle suddenly felt like it did the day he sprained it and he caught himself on his bed frame. Emily was here, he knew it. The one time he’s left alone in almost a week and she takes full advantage.

 

The floaty feeling was no longer post-masturbatory but more… drug-like. And he’s had experience. He glanced in the vanity mirror and tried to scream for help when he saw Emily walking through him and not coming out again. He could feel the chill in his bloodstream, icy and wrong. His chest was tight and itchy, his lungs full of dust. He coughed and fell to his knees, his whole body rattling with it. But coughing wouldn’t get her out.

 

With one hand tugging at his collar and one on the floor, he felt himself crawl towards the mirror, seeing his eyes a foreign shade of black. When he stood up, he was no longer in control. Emily had fully possessed him. He could feel her hatred bubble in his chest and her thoughts crowd his head. She was devoted to her husband. She was never going to let anyone have him. Not her sister. Not her cousin. Not her stepmother. Not even another man.

 

Gerard saw his reflection lift his fist, smile crookedly, and punch the mirror. It fell into pieces around him, drops of blood on their reflective surface. Smaller versions of him were everywhere. What was the purpose of this? Why did she want to hurt him so bad? He wasn’t pursuing Bennett. He didn’t even like Bennett! He hadn’t even so much as dated another man! Well, there was that one year in college but that didn’t count, it was  _ college _ . And that guy really broke his heart.

 

He picked up a piece of the mirror and rolled up his sleeve. No. No way! He fought back against Emily, pushing against her to try and get to the front. Push her back so he could stop this. He had enough self harm scars, he didn’t need more. Especially ones done by jealous ghosts, but she was strong. She fought with immovability and Gerard was fighting like a dying man. It was hopeless. She carved quickly and deeply, his laugh rising through his own throat, gross and wicked. The pain was excruciating. It was like a million paper cuts and made his ankle feel like a small bruise. It seared through his body and he could feel something important burst as she cut letters into his arm. 

 

The door burst open suddenly and Emily left, causing Gerard to fall onto his knees, screaming with the pain, the tears Emily was able to hold back opening like floodgates. Two people entered the room, trying to figure out what to do. Frank - he thought - was yelling at him. Why was he yelling?

 

“I didn’t do this,” he cried.

 

Frank was trying to lift him up and take him to the bathroom while Adelaide was holding onto his hands, despite the blood. Frank was livid, face red and expression infuriated. Adelaide went ahead when Frank told her to and let the water in the sink run. Frank had him pinned against the counter while Adelaide forcefully shoved the bleeding letters under the warm stream.

 

“Fuckin’ - get off!” He yelled at Frank, “It hurts!”

 

“Hush, darling! If we don’t clean this, something serious will happen. That mirror is over 70 years old. Lord knows what bacteria was on it.” Adelaide told him, squirting some soap onto his arm before opening the medicine cabinet and finding some bandages. She must’ve put them there knowing something would happen.

 

It wasn’t until he was successfully cleaned and the blood started prickling through did he realize what the letters spelled out.

 

“Not yours,” Gerard read aloud, his stomach clenching with the sudden urge to project whatever food he had in it.

 

“Your cross is black, isn’t it?” Adelaide asked.

 

“It… how did you know?” He swallowed, wincing when she started wrapping the gauze around his arm.

 

She taped it off, “Never be alone.”

 

When Adelaide left his side, Frank replaced her quickly, looking frightened but relieved, touching the side of his face, “She got you, Gerard. She got you and - and I was supposed to watch you.”

 

“I did get to jerk off, if it helps your conscience.” He joked, wincing again when Frank brushed his arm.

 

“Jesus,” he chuckled, “you don’t take any of this seriously, do you?”

 

“I try not to focus on the serious shit.” He groaned, pulling his arm towards his body, “Emily really likes you.”

 

“And she hates you.” Frank sighed dejectedly, helping Gerard stand so he could hug him, “I said I wouldn’t let her get you. You gotta stay with me, man. No more adventures alone.”

 

He melted in Frank’s arms, finally aware of just how exhausted he was. He pushed his face against Frank’s shoulder and sighed, “At this point, I’m not even mad that I have to be with someone all the time.”

 

Frank pulled away and smiled sadly at him, “Aww, Gee. You look… awful, no offense.”

 

“None taken. I’m exhausted.” He laughed under his breath, “You think we can convince the boys to put off Men In Tights till tomorrow?”

 

“You got fucking words cut into your arm, Gerard. I’m sure they’ll manage.” He deadpanned.

 

Mikey freaked out the most when they finally met them all. They had been outside in the gardens while everything went down. Apparently Frank and Adelaide were going to look at a plumbing issue in Bob’s room when they heard the mirror smash. He was told the door didn’t open until all the letters were carved into his arm. Ray made him take off the bandage so he could see the damage and made a horrified noise before promptly telling him to cover it again. Everyone agreed not to let Gerard out of their sights and for the first time, the man in question agreed.

 

Men In Tights was put off till the next night and everyone turned in early. Mikey didn’t sleep in his room that night and Gerard didn’t blame him. He ended up sleeping on Gerard’s couch, passing out as soon as his head touched the pillow. He even looked stressed in his sleep. Sure, Gerard was the star of the physical and mental issues in the mansion, but Mikey was the guest star that was surely going to take the spotlight. Gerard was worried about his well being.

 

With Mikey on the couch, Frank was gradually convinced to sleep next to Gerard. It felt nice to sleep next to someone and know they were there to protect you. Well, that and the fact Frank was like a living heating pad and Gerard was always so damn cold. 

 

Frank rolled over, “Gee?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“How the hell are you and Mikey still functioning?” He paused, “I mean all this shit is happening to you and… do you know what he’s been through?”

 

“No?”

 

“Well, I talked to Adelaide and his room is actually the most active. He doesn’t get a lot of sleep unless he’s in one of our rooms. He hates going in there. The only time I’ve ever seen him in there is when he’s writing lyrics or tabs.” He whispered, reaching up to tug on Gerard’s long sleeve.

 

“I feel so bad. I haven’t even noticed how bad he’s doing. I’m a shit brother.” He mumbled, letting Frank sorta hold his hand, their fingertips in between each other’s. 

 

“Bullshit.” Frank said firmly, “Just… talk to him. Be there for him like we are to you, okay? The last thing we need is to be short a lead singer or a bassist.”

 

“Yeah. Okay, yeah. I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow.” He nodded, scooting closer.

 

Frank yawned, “Good night. If you need me, wake me up.”

 

“I’m sure the terrors will wake you up before I do.” He sighed, “But goodnight, Frankie.”

 

…

 

“I’m leaving.”

 

Gerard had - for once in what felt like forever - no night terrors last night and waking up to this made him wish he had them over his brother leaving. They were sat around the table eating breakfast when Mikey walked in with his bags, a thermos of coffee in hand.

 

“What?” Bob asked incredulously.

 

“The cab is gonna be here in two minutes.” Mikey shifted his weight onto one leg, jutting his hip out and avoiding eye contact, “I… I can’t do it anymore guys. I don’t want to leave the band but-”

 

“Woah, no one said anything about leaving the band!” Frank shot up and Ray shoved him back down.

 

“So you aren’t just leaving the mansion, are you?” Ray asked, face falling.

 

Mikey stayed quiet for a second, “Yeah.”

 

“But - but why?” His brother asked, his chest aching.

 

He huffed, “It’s a lot of things, Gerard. This damn house isn’t safe. I’m not sure why I was talked into this in the first place. I got stuck with the most active room and I can’t sleep. Pretty sure I haven’t eaten in a good two days, too. And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but I’m not cut out for what we’re trying to do. Toro should just play bass. He’s fucking better at it anyhow.”

 

“Mikey-”

 

“No. I’m not changing my mind, Bob.” He glared at him, “It’s too much and I don’t want to relapse.”

 

And then he was gone. 

 

Gerard chased after him, of course, like any sane person would. But he was too late when he got outside. Mikey was already in the back of the cab, driving down the gravel path back to LA where he’d probably stay at a hotel or with a friend. 

 

“God fucking dammit!” Gerard yelled at no one in particular, beating the shit out of the rocks under him with his foot, realizing all too late that he was using his bad ankle.

 

Bob was there to catch him and coax him back inside, mumbling things about the rest of them sticking together. Needless to say, Men In Tights wasn’t watched that night. They did work on some songs, despite everyone feeling extremely unmotivated. Gerard sang with a new tone in his voice that was definitely more raw and emotional. (Probably cause his brother ditched the band, he thought.) Ray played Mikey’s parts when they finished recording the live demos and then the day was over. 

 

It was Bob’s night to watch him. He basically passed out on the couch while Gerard scurried around, racking his brain to find the words he wanted to write. He had a lot going on up there and needed to vent  _ somehow _ . All his art was getting gorey and he really didn’t want to draw another scene of vampires eating someone’s heart. He wanted to write a fucking song for crying out loud. One that hurt. One that got Mikey’s attention and pulled him back to the band. But his idea bank had run dry.

 

He paced almost all night before he went into his bathroom to relax and take a bath. Adelaide had given everyone this weird stress relief stuff with lavender in it and Gerard was willing to try anything. He sat on the counter and watched the bubbles form as the tub filled with water. He hopped down carefully and was half naked when he glanced in the bathroom mirror.

 

Emily.

 

Gerard wasn’t scared this time, in fact, he was fucking livid. He stormed up to the mirror and stared her down, “You can’t fucking get me this time, bitch. You drove out my brother. You’ve hurt me and my friends and you can’t mess with us any longer.”

 

She gave him an amused look and watched him as he took one of the many blankets off his bed and tossed it over the mirror. He wouldn’t even give her the power to look at him. He was gonna take his fucking bath and no one would stop him. Fucking girls. Fucking ghosts. Fucking -  _ ghouls _ . He hated them. He always thought that knowing an afterlife existed would be cool but not when the soul of a dead housewife wanted his guts on the floor so she could get all spectrophilic on Frank. Ew. Sex with ghosts… nasty. He barely liked having sex with living girls, spectral ones were probably even worse.

 

He sunk further into the water so the bubbles tickled his nose and his lips were submerged. He missed baths, dammit. Best invention ever, especially with the lavender. He could probably fall asleep in the bath, no doubt. Which… would be dangerous. A lot of famous people died while bathing. He didn’t want to be one of them.

 

His arm stung under the soapy water but he did his best to ignore it. The cleaner it was, the better. He lifted it out of the water and stared at the scabbing. It was going to scar. He sighed at the realization, touching the edges of the first letter. 

 

And just when he thought the night was going to go smoothly, there was a shriek from the hallway in the form of Ray’s name. Gerard automatically got out of the tub and tied his bathrobe around himself, bubbles probably still in his hair, walking briskly out to the hallway. Bob wasn’t too far behind him. The noise had come from Frank’s room.

 

When they entered, Frank was gripping onto Ray, staring at something on his wall. Gerard’s mouth dropped. In shaky, cursive writing were the words,  _ You are mine. _

 

He walked over to the two and put a hand on Frank’s shoulder, showing him the writing on his arm, “They match.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” he gaped, grabbing his wrist tightly.

 

“Before my arm happened… I heard scratching.” Gerard recalled.

 

Everyone looked at him and Ray spoke, “You tell us this  _ now _ ?”

 

“Jesus,” Frank repeated, “I’m staying with you tonight, Ray.”

 

…

 

Adelaide stared at the wall for a solid 2 minutes until she disappeared to another room, coming back with some yellowed pieces of paper. She set them down on the coffee table and everyone gathered around to read them. They were some kind of diary, it looked like. Or maybe a love letter? Something in between, anyway.

 

“To my dearest Bennett,” Bob read aloud, “These are Emily’s?”

 

“Her handwriting is the same as the writing on the wall.” She nodded, “Maybe reading these will give you a better look at her life.”

 

“I’m not getting much from these other than she really, really loves her husband.” Gerard said flatly, “What do you know about her? Seems like you know a lot.”

 

Adelaide sat on the ground on her knees, touching the papers delicately, “I know quite a lot about her. Before she turned malignant, she would talk to me. Rant about her life and how much she was devoted to her betrothed.” 

 

“They weren’t married?” Frank looked up.

 

She winced, “I spoke falsely about that, I apologize. The story of Emily and her fiance is quite a gruesome one.”

 

Ray rested his elbows on the coffee table, “We’ve got nothing better to do.”

 

“Right.” She smiled patiently, thinking, “Emily and Bennett were friends with the original owners of the house. So much so that they took permanent residence, sometime in the late 20s. Bennett had been interested in her since they were children… or so they say. When Bennett proposed, he did it to protect himself. He hid within Emily and she was never aware of it until she noticed just how many people casted glances at him. 

 

“Bennett was a very eager and enthusiastic man with likeable qualities. He was a good businessman and a wonderful conversationalist. Everyone who met him liked him instantly. Not just the ladies.”

 

“Oh.” Frank sighed.

 

“Quite.” Adelaide huffed, flicking her hair behind her ear, “He had a lover named Alfred who he loved more than Emily. When she found out, she killed both Bennett and Alfred. After their funerals, she killed herself in the room your brother stays - stayed in.”

 

“Jesus,” Gerard’s mouth fell open, “I mean, this makes a lot more sense now. Any guy who even looks at Bennet -  _ Frank _ , sorry - is gonna get the boot.” 

 

“Not exactly,” Adelaide laughed awkwardly. “Alfred was a musician, a singer.”

 

A pause.

 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Gerard stood up, “Of course Alfred was a fucking singer!”

 

Without thinking, he stormed out and headed to his room. He heard someone going after him but ignored them, throwing himself onto his bed to pout. Of course Alfred had to be a singer. Of fucking course! Couldn’t be anymore perfect! Frank was the reincarnation of some dead gay fiance and Gerard was the reborn version of his love affair. Fucking great! Emily had every reason to hate him! Hell, he even hated himself! But that’s what Emily wanted. She wanted him to hurt.

 

“Yes!” He got up and went over to the dresser, digging out a thing of sticky notes.

 

“Gerard?” Ray asked.

 

“Shhh, I’ve got something.” He put a finger up and grinned down at the pad of notes.

 

He wrote simple phrases on them and stuck them up on the wall, one after another. Ray repeated his name a couple times but he was too into it. His writer’s block was cured, all because of a little self hatred and some ghostly vengeance. The notes weren’t happy lyrics by any means, but they would be. They would be soon. Mikey would love it and he’d come back and everything would be okay again.

 

When Gerard was finished in the moment, Ray came up behind him and stared, “These… don’t sound so good.”

 

“Never said they would be. But here’s my plan, right? Reverse them. Turn what that stupid woman wants us to feel into an anthem that everyone needs. That Mikey needs. Something - something that will help kids keep going, you know?” He turned towards Ray, only to see confusion.

 

“‘I’m afraid I’ll die alone. I can’t bring him back. I wish you were here.’ Gerard, these don’t sound… reversible.” Ray gave him a worried look. 

 

“Just give me time and I’ll write the best song we’ve ever done. I promise.” Gerard reassured him, “It’s just thoughts.”

 

…

 

It was Frank’s night to watch him. They just got done finally watching Men In Tights and Gerard had one of the songs from the movie stuck in his head, humming down the hallway. His ankle was feeling a lot better. He didn’t have to use the cane everywhere and generally only leaned against the banister while he went down the stairs. Everyone had been hesitant to leave them alone together but when Frank brought up that Emily hadn’t really done anything to him, they reluctantly agreed.

 

“You added more notes.” He said when they entered the room.

 

“Yeah,” Gerard came up behind him, “I’m finally coming up with things that make sense lyrically.”

 

“‘I am not afraid to walk this world alone,’” Frank read aloud, “I like the sound of that.”

 

Gerard huffed, “You’re the only one so far.”

 

“Really?”

 

Frank sat on the bed while Gerard changed into a pair of sweatpants, putting an old t-shirt on. He nearly fell trying to take his jeans off and Frank merely stared and laughed at him and was no help  _ at all _ . Asshole. 

 

“Yeah. Ray’s worried about me and Bob thinks I’m gonna kill myself.” He chuckled darkly, throwing the shirt on, “Have you heard from Mikey?”

 

Frank shook his head, “No one has.”

 

Gerard crawled onto the other side of the bed and settled under his covers, sighing loudly. Frank followed suit, even with the couch open. Gerard’s hand lay out in the open in case the other wanted to hold it or whatever. He’d always been fairly touchy, doing simple things like legs touching under the table or weird things like running his fingers over Gerard’s arm and all the way to his very own fingers. Gerard was kind of a touch whore, though. He didn’t want to admit it.

 

“I wish I could call him but I bet he blocked our numbers.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

 

“I lost my phone,” Frank snorted, running his fingers lightly over Gerard’s wrist.

 

He was always so careful, so gentle with Gerard. Sure, he was a fucking maniac on stage and hurt Gerard at the drop of a hat but offstage was a different story. He was like that with the whole band, really. Always wanted to hug or cuddle or do some other thing. Bob was the only one who didn’t really like it but he was also the only one in the band that didn’t act like a metrosexual.

 

Frank’s hand didn’t reach the letters on his forearm and was sweet in theory but Gerard really wanted him to keep going. He huffed and heard Frank chuckle.

 

“What, Gee?”

 

“The words don’t hurt.” He paused and said in a more timid voice, “Go all the way.”

 

He did as told, touching him as light as a feather, “You want me to go all the way, hmm?”

 

“Oh, shut up, Frankie.” Gerard laughed under his breath.

 

“As you wish.” He replied.

 

“Wrong movie.” Gerard mumbled, feeling himself doze off.

 

“Same actor.” He retorted, his fingers up to Gerard’s shoulder.

 

“Whatever,” he yawned, “I’m tired. Hold my hand.”

 

There was a pause in which Frank laced their hands together before he leaned in and whispered quietly, “As you wish.”

 

Gerard expected to hear his classic asshole tone of voice but found it oddly solemn. Frank confirmed the sincerity of it all with a quick, barely-there kiss to the back of his hand. Gerard fell asleep smiling.

 

…

 

Gerard was only left alone in one room: the ballroom. Adelaide had a priest come in and bless the place, just so the band had a safe positive environment to get work done. Gerard might’ve hugged Adelaide. He totally loved her.

 

He really needed alone time so when the guys brought up going into town to get groceries - because apparently they were running low on vegetarian options - Gerard ushered them out and bolted for the ballroom.

 

The wall of opposites had finally pieced together as lyrics. Well, sort of. He had ideas and with everyone constantly around him, he couldn’t focus and let everything set in. Especially when Frank would just sit and stare at him. Fucking weirdo.

 

He really missed Mikey. He would’ve never thought in a million years he would leave the band. If anything, he thought Bob would, but never his own brother. And he couldn’t say the right words to get him back no matter how hard he tried. It turned out he hadn’t blocked them. But he only gave Gerard a quick, five minute phone call to let him know he was okay and that he was staying with a friend of his. At least he was safe.

 

With the mansion empty, he could be as loud and as passionate as he wanted. There were parts of the song that were unfinished, a hole someone could easily help him fix. He recorded what he had so far into a really rough demo. His guitar and bass skills were subpar and he couldn’t even play drums so it was… fairly unfinished. He was extremely proud of what he had so far. Mikey would love it.

 

When the guys came back, it was a party of jumping up and down excitedly with amazed expressions. The band got to it and filled in most of what needed to be filled. Musically, that was. When it came to lyrically, they were stumped.

 

“Gerard, you’re the only one who would know about how you feel.” Ray tried to explain.

 

“Except this song is about two people. Mikey and I. I’m not saying he’ll help write it but…”

 

“Are you saying we should call him?” Frank asked.

 

Gerard shrugged, “Worth a shot, right?”

 

There was a stare down between them all.

 

Ray caved and dug out his phone, “I’ll do it.”

 

Gerard grinned at Bob and Frank while Ray stepped aside and chatted with Mikey. Bob rolled his eyes and went over to his drums. Frank mostly looked secretly impressed.

 

“I feel like you do this for a reason, sometimes. Leaving things unfinished for us to add to?” He crossed his arms accusingly.

 

“I don’t, honest!” Gerard held his hands out, “I’m gonna work on it more tonight. Maybe we can finish it. When it’s all said and done… maybe Mikey will come home.”

 

“His home with is you?”

 

“It’s with all of us.” He corrected Frank, giving him a look, “I know mine is with all of you.”

 

Frank opened his mouth to saying something but Ray spoke before him, “Mikey will be out here on Saturday to hear the song Gerard wrote. He said he’s not staying long.”

 

“What did you say?” Inquired Frank.

 

“I told him that Gerard wrote him a song from the darkest part of himself and that Mikey needed to hear it before something happens to Gerard again.” He shrugged.

 

“Woah, way to guilt him, Toro.” Bob laughed.

 

“I mean I  _ had _ to sprinkle in some guilt! Worked, didn’t it. He’s coming in a few days. I hope this song works, Gee.”

 

“Oh, it will. Trust me.” He grinned.

 

…

 

“What do you mean you’ve been ‘having Bennett dreams’?” Ray quoted, moving his fingers to symbolize it.

 

Frank shifted warily and avoided eye contact with him. He picked at a tattoo on his arm, huffing, “Well, I mean… I’ve been having them for bit now. Not like every night! But like… for three nights now.”

 

“Three?!” Ray replied, gesticulating, “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

 

“Cause I didn’t know what they were!” He paused, looking at Gerard, “I didn’t know who Bennett and Alfred were when the dreams first started.”

 

“Ray, shush.” Bob put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Do you want to tell us what they were about?” Adelaide asked politely, a cup of tea up to her lips.

 

Adelaide had earlier invited them to her quarters for tea and Gerard agreed immediately cause he sorta loved her. She was just this tall, 50 something, English woman with such a sweet personality, how could he not like her? The tea was really good, too, and he usually preferred coffee. Bob had some anti-tea stance so he just sat there and listened to everyone, breaking up conversation when it got tense. Bob and Ray sat next to each other on the floor while Adelaide and Gerard were seated on the loveseat, watching Frank who was standing in front of them all.

 

“Yeah.” He sighed, “Before I knew… any of this, the first dream was really weird. It felt like me but like… a different me.”

 

“A different you?” She asked, sitting forward, “Were you in Bennett’s point of view?”

 

“It was like I  _ was _ Bennett.” Frank laughed awkwardly, “The dream wasn’t bad. None of them were, really. Nothing like Gerard’s dreams. They were, uh, about Alfred.”

 

Everyone looked at him for more. He really did look uncomfortable and Gerard felt bad for him. He’d probably be better off talking to them individually about this but that required telling the same story several times. He watched Frank look around the room for a second before he sighed, giving in.

 

“The first dream was Bennett and Alfred meeting. Or me and… Gerard? I don’t know, it felt weird. It was like I knew it wasn’t Gerard but it felt like it was him?” He huffed, “It sounds weird.”

 

“You know,” Adelaide interrupted his rambling with soft words, “I have been looking into some texts with my friend and she firmly believes that you two could very well be the reincarnates of the two men.”

 

“Huh.” Frank looked about three emotions at once: confused, interested, and embarrassed. His mouth was open in a sort of smile and his eyebrows were knitted together, “Um, well, okay. Anyway. They - or we? I don’t know - met at a work party at a bar. Bennett was taking some friends of his out for a couple of drinks to celebrate a new sale and Alfred had been someone’s plus one - a brother to one of them, I think. Alfred asked him if he was married, Bennett said no, and then the dream ended.”

 

“Seems simple enough.” Ray said, sort of ending it as a question.

 

“When did you have this one?” Adelaide inquired.

 

“The first night we were here.” Frank said firmly, continuing, “The second dream was fairly short. This was before Mikey left. I think it was… when we crashed in Gerard’s room. But this one was in the garden on like a summery type day? Emily was out with some friends and Alfred had kissed me - Bennett, I should say - and told Bennett that he loved him more than a friend.”

 

There wasn’t a verbal response so he continued, “The third happened a couple days ago. We -  _ they _ \- did a  _ thing _ and Emily caught them. Alfred tried to run away but his pants were at his ankles so he fell right onto his face.”

 

Gerard snorted and everyone looked at him, “What?” He read their faces wrongly and put his hands up, “Woah, I’ve only fucked one guy and that was in college.”

 

“I don’t think that’s what-” Ray started but was cut off by Adelaide.

 

“That’s why I’m so confused. When the TV cast was here, she was jealous of another woman who was dating the Bennett lookalike but in this case, she has no real motive to go on other than Gerard sings. You two aren’t in a relationship.” She put her cup down, thinking.

 

“Uh,” Frank blurted. Everyone’s eyes shot to him and he startled, “This is really embarrassing to admit but I have a journal? I’ve had it since I joined the band and Gerard already knows this but when I first joined I had a thing for him? And sometimes I forget to close the journal or put it away. She could’ve easily went through it.”

 

“That… could be a strong possibility.” Adelaide’s nose scrunched as she processed this, “Are you comfortable sharing what you wrote?”

 

“Yeah, uh. I think I wrote just about being stoked to join the band because ‘the lead singer is kinda hot’.” He did air quotes, sounding bored.

 

“Kinda?” Gerard found himself saying.

 

Thankfully, Frank just laughed, “Totally hot, sorry, your highness.”

 

“Oh, fuck you.”

 

“Hey! This is a serious fucking issue. Quit your fighting.” Bob interjected, scowling. 

 

“Wait.” Gerard looked between them.

 

“Don’t say anything shitty.” Bob warned.

 

“I’m not going to! I just - Frank, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this but when you had those dreams, you were in the same room as me.” He smiled warily, “And when you were in the same room, I didn’t have any night terrors.”

 

“A cancelation of negative energy.” Adelaide nodded, “Frank brings peace while Gerard brings remembrance.” 

 

“This is so fucking weird.” Gerard whined, pulling at the short strands on his head, “And I’m treating it like it’s normal? Am I just supposed to accept that a ghost wants me dead because Frank thought I had a nice face like 4 years ago?”

 

He felt an arm rest across his shoulders and looked up to see Adelaide smiling at him, “I’m sure if I can convince the priest to come back, he can help us figure out how to help Emily move on.” 

 

“You mean we might be able to stay here and not think about dying?” Ray asked.

 

“Well, thinking about it, I’m not sure but the threat of injury will be slim to none.” She nodded, “I’ll give her a call. Do you boys need anything else? Any questions?”

 

“Yeah. When did you get so awesome?” Gerard grinned.

 

She giggled and let her arm fall back to her side, “You boys are so sweet.” She stood up, “Maybe we can have tea like this again?”

 

The decision was easy to make.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

…

 

Frank stepped out of Gerard’s bathroom, his hair damp and towel in hand. He tossed it onto the side of the couch before sitting next to Gerard on the bed. He glanced over to see pages full of lyrics, some with matching drawings. Frank wanted to use the tub since it was apparently bigger than all the others. Well, that and the fact that Gerard couldn’t be too far away from anyone for fear of the unexpected. Gerard was scribbling furiously on the paper, most of it illegible. Gerard looked up at Frank briefly before going back down to the paper.

 

“What?”

 

“You smell good.” Gerard said without looking up, “Like lavender.”

 

“Thanks.” He leaned in a little closer, “What are you working on?”

 

“The same song. I still don’t have a title for it.” He huffed, showing him the page. There was a quick sketch of Mikey and his bass. Frank frowned at the drawings.

 

“You really miss him, huh.” He gave Gerard a sad smile.

 

“I do, yeah.” He sighed, “But anyway. I finally came up with a few different lines.”

 

Gerard watched as Frank read the page, reading way too far into the smallest change of expression, “‘So many brights lights they cast a shadow?’”

 

“Well, in this case, I’m trying to tell him that our band is a bright light. It’s good for us, good for him. Just because it gets a little rough sometimes doesn’t mean that it’s not any less bright. Bright things cast shadows. There’s always a pro to every con. It goes along with how a life like ours is rough. You’re constantly in the limelight and everything you do, you’ll be accounted for.” He shifted, pausing, “He’s scared because he’s weak. He’s afraid that if he admits that he’s not doing so good, that it’ll change how we view him. But I know for a fact that if he were to come back right now, I’d open my arms to him like the prodigal son.”

 

“I would, too.”

 

Gerard looked up and met Frank’s eyes. He was giving him a weird look that felt like something he’d dreamt before. And then suddenly - with the quick placement of Frank’s hand on the back of his neck - they were kissing. It was almost scary how fast Gerard’s brain went from ‘what the fuck’ to ‘I’ve never felt more welcome in a position like this’.

 

Frank parted the kiss, laughing awkwardly, “You're… not kissing back?”

 

“Oh! I’m sorry - I just - I didn’t  _ know _ .” He gestured between them.

 

“You didn’t?” He scoffed, “I haven’t been exactly subtle.”

 

“I’m an oblivious fuck, I’m sure we’ve been over this.” Gerard huffed.

 

Frank paused, letting the hand on Gerard’s neck fall to his lap, “I just couldn’t take it any longer, even if you rejected me. I just… I love you a lot, Gee.”

 

“I love you, too.” He said back immediately, scooting closer and licking his lips, “I think… I think maybe you should kiss me again. I wanna test something.”

 

Surprisingly, Frank didn’t tease him and brought their lips together again, gentle and as caring as ever. His hand brushed over the high of Gerard’s cheekbone as he slipped his tongue into his mouth. Once Gerard was more comfortable - and even dared to wrap his arms around Frank’s middle - Frank coaxed him to lay down. He carefully climbed on top of him and a spark of deja vu hit Gerard. The dream he had with the Emily-Frank ghost thing wasn’t this sweet, sincere, or tender. This is what Frank felt like. He moved his lips to Gerard’s jaw and he gladly tipped his head back.

 

“Oh,” he moaned and surprised himself with the noise, continuing anyway, tangling his hands in Frank’s hair, “Test over. I definitely fucking love this.”

 

Frank chuckled lowly, “Do you want me to stop?”

 

“No,” Gerard basically growled, “don’t stop. Go… go all the way.”

 

He sat up so he could grin at Gerard, “All the way, hmm?”

 

He grinned at the memory, too, begging, “All the way, Frankie,  _ please _ .”

 

“On it.” He mumbled against his lips, shoving a hand under Gerard’s shirt.

 

…

 

Surprisingly, the night was a lot warmer even with less layers on. Frank was pressed against him, hands on his chest and a leg between his own. It was peaceful and quiet and Gerard was honestly surprised he had never done that before. It kinda made sense when he thought about it. All his girlfriends sucked and sure, women were beautiful, but when he had sex with them it was like… something was missing. Maybe that’s why he missed that one year in college so much. The guy he was with was super sweet and caring and treated him like royalty. But then he got swept off his feet by a girl with a better ass and left Gerard on the side of the road by McDonald’s. He liked to try and forget it because he was certain they were going to be together for a long time. 

 

He traced the tattoos on Frank’s arm and sighed. He had never thought about Frank that way unless people asked ‘hey are you guys dating?’ They’d done stuff on stage but that was mostly to piss homophobes off. All these damn years Frank had been pining after him and he never knew! But it kinda felt like Gerard was using him. He loved him so purely and Gerard just ran with it to get an orgasm out of it. Or, at least, that’s what it felt like.

 

Maybe that’s what Alfred had done. Maybe he just saw a cute boy and told him he loved him to get in his pants, fiance or not. He sat up, careful not to wake Frank, and put his boxers back on which lay in a heap on the floor. The cigarettes were by his window as usual and he lit one up, opening up the window all the way so the cool air hit his too-warm skin. He had a lot of confusing and gay thoughts and really didn’t want to deal with them without a smoke.

 

The pool water lay below, illuminated by the underwater lights, bright and anime blue. It was beautiful, actually. The chill air and the sound of the pool’s filter humming in the distance… it added to the weird melancholy. He really did love Frank. He had loved him as his best friend for so many years but now it was different. He loved the way Frank’s hands fit so naturally with his own. He loved how gentle he was with him. He loved the soft feeling of his hair tickling his nose while they were pressed together. He loved the sound of his voice, low and lovely, whispering sweet nothings to him. He loved the way he said his name. He loved the way Frank said he loved him.

 

Gerard wiped his eyes with his free hand. He loved him, too. So much that his chest hurt. But he didn’t love him the way he did say… the day before. He was in that weird stage of ‘you’re my best friend and I’d fuck you’. He knew it was only a matter of time before Frank would feel like more than just a best friend with a good dick. But no one but him had to know about it. 

 

The breeze made him anxious now, enveloping him all around. His heart beat weirdly in his chest and rose to his throat. He didn’t even have to look behind him to know that Emily was near. But then he saw something out the window. He stood up and peered out and saw… nothing. Just the waters below and what appeared to be a net for filtering out leaves. 

 

“Gerard? Why are you - what are you doing?” Frank asked behind him.

 

He only got a chance to look at him with a sad expression until a pair of invisible hands shoved his body out the window and into the pool.

 

The water was cold and deeper than expected. He could’ve easily flailed his way to the surface if someone wasn’t dragging him to the bottom. He kicked and he kicked and he kicked but no gain was made. The air was tight and trapped in his lungs as his heart continued to keep up with the anxiety, the struggle. He pried his eyes open and they stung against the pool water. He looked down and saw Emily, pretty and deadly, her long claws dug into his ankle. He tried to scream but that just let the air escape his lungs, bubbling around him. His lungs were going to implode and with an accidental breath of water, they were filled. He was struggling to push back and his eyes were fluttering closed. He was dying, no doubt. And somehow, he felt comfort in it, letting her continue to pull him down to the bottom.

 

There was shouting, noise above the water. There was another splash and what felt like an equally as powerful hand grasped Gerard’s arm, yanking him from Emily’s reach. He couldn’t respond or breathe when he breached the surface, Ray pulling him up and smacking him on the back hard once. He coughed up what felt like gallons of water before he fell backwards onto the concrete, staring unfocused at the sky.

 

“Motherfucker!” Frank cried - actually  _ cried _ \- scooping him up and hugging him tightly, “What the hell happened?!”

 

He coughed again into his shoulder, taking rattling breaths, “Emily.”

 

“Frank, weren’t you with him?” Bob shot out, climbing out of the pool.

 

“Yes, of fucking course I was with him!” He shouted back, careful to cover Gerard’s ear as he did so, “He was smoking by the window when I woke up and then - and then Emily pushed him in!”

 

Gerard was gripping onto the shirt on Frank’s back, trying to breath normally. It was his shirt, he realized. His Dawn of the Dead shirt. Frank was tense against him but he didn’t want to part even if the world was ending.  _ Especially _ if the world was ending.

 

“You were supposed to watch him!” Ray rose his voice.

 

“How was I supposed to know he was awake!? If you want constant eyes on Gerard, we might as well take shifts instead of switching every night!”

 

“It’s my fault, Frank. I didn’t wake you up.” He rasped.

 

They didn’t argue anymore but Ray huffed and asked Bob to come back inside with him. Frank watched them leave before he turned back to Gerard, quiet and soft, “Hey, are you alright? I’m so sorry, Gee.”

 

“It’s not your fault.” He repeated, moving so he could make eye contact, “I’ve been better, though.”

 

He laughed breathlessly and smiled at him, “You were pushed out of a window and you’ve been better?”

 

He groaned, “I’m trying to stay optimistic.”

 

Frank chuckled and put their foreheads together, sighing, “You’re a self-deprecating optimist.”

 

“I never said I was good at it.” Gerard mumbled before giving him a chaste kiss, “I’m freezing.”

 

Frank gave him a sad look, helping him stand, “I bet you are, you’re barely wearing anything.”

 

“Wearing more than I was.” He muttered, shivering as they entered the house.

 

The hallways seemed even draftier and dangerous after what had happened. It was like every indoor breeze he felt was directed at only him. Maybe Frank and him shouldn’t have gotten together. Maybe they could’ve just talked about it and did something after they left the Paramour so Emily didn’t try to  _ fucking drown him _ . He sighed and held Frank’s hand, hiding a smile when Gerard felt his eyes on him.

 

“I think I’m gonna take a bath.” He started, “Maybe it’ll warm me up faster.”

 

“I agree. Your lips are blue.” Frank almost whined, touching his bottom lip with his thumb.

 

“Better than my whole face.” Gerard laughed darkly, pushing past Frank to fill the tub up.

 

He zoned out as the water filled and the bubbles formed almost as if he were in a trance. Maybe it was the shock finally settling in. That made sense. Thrown from a window, dragged to the bottom by a dead soul. Not to mention his weird no-longer-friends relationship he had with Frank. It’s not like they could date like regular couples do. Photos would be taken, blogs would be started, and relationships would be lost. His mother was never too fond of ‘that faggot couple across the street’. Those men were actually so kind to Gerard. Got him cookies for his birthday each year until he moved out. He missed them.

 

Maybe Frank and him could be that faggot couple, though, he thought as he began to undress. Maybe they could still have the band and do amazing things but still be that couple. The neighbors would always file noise complaints because of Frank’s loud riffs at 2am. They’d hand out the best candy on Halloween and throw the best block parties. And maybe they’d help all the other little queer kids on their street. He smiled at the thought, jumping when he realized Frank was in the doorway.

 

“Uh.” Gerard said intelligently.

 

“Hmm?” He asked before he caught on, “Oh, don’t worry. I’m kinda sexed out.”

 

He sighed thankfully, sinking down carefully into the water, “Alright.”

 

“It… doesn’t mean you aren’t still beautiful, though.” Frank blushed, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck.

 

He never really complimented Gerard. Or anyone in the band for that matter. Especially not like that. He might say a certain lyric or a certain riff sounds awesome but he never really complimented physical appearance that straightforward. He’d dodge it, mostly. Tell Ray he prefers his hair curly. Tell Mikey that he should wear the black jeans instead because Alicia would like them. Tell Gerard he did a good job not fucking up his eyeliner. Passive aggressive ways of acknowledging his fellow members were attractive. He didn’t really say much to Bob after the shoe incident.

 

Needless to say, Gerard forgot how to breathe for the second time that night.

 

“You really think that?” He found himself asking.

 

“Of course I do.” He sat next to the tub, “I kinda always have.”

 

Gerard let the water touch his chin, staring at the wall opposite him, “Do you think we should’ve waited to do this after we escaped this hell hole?”

 

Frank paused, “If I would’ve known what happened tonight, I would’ve waited. It would’ve killed me, but I would wait.”

 

The tub squeaked while Gerard adjusted himself, resting his arms on the edge and leaning his head against them, “You’ve loved me for a long time, haven’t you?”

 

He let his head hit the wall, laughing, “Since I joined the band.”

 

The smile that spread on his face couldn’t be contained. He sighed and grabbed some of the bubbles, touching the end of Frank’s nose with his finger and leaving some suds in its place. Frank groaned and blew it off, making Gerard giggle like a fucking  _ teenager _ . He couldn’t resist leaning over and kissing him. It would hurt him not to.

 

“How long have you loved me, Gee?” He asked sweetly, his hand on the edge of the tub.

 

“To be honest, it wasn’t until you kissed me that I had this… ‘oh.  _ Oh. _ So that’s what that was’ moment. But I’ve loved you pretty much since I met you. Sorry if I’m not making sense.” He laughed awkwardly, sinking back into the water.

 

“No, I get it. Kind of like… you knew something was there but didn’t know what it was.” Frank offered, continuing when Gerard nodded, “That how I was with you. Thought you were cute at first and then fast forward to some stage stuff and I kinda just thought ‘oh fuck’.”

 

He chuckled, “Kind of what happened with us today. Or… yesterday. What time is it?”

 

“Four in the morning.”

 

“Yesterday, then.” Gerard snickered.

 

…

 

When Mikey came, it was like the gates to heaven opened. Gerard was so happy to see him that he got emotional. Mikey was all smiles, too. Guess he missed them after all. He seemed a lot calmer and more collected. Maybe a break was good for him. When Gerard had hugged him he smelled clean and was even wearing cologne. It was surreal.

 

“So what was this about a song?” Mikey asked once everyone was done fanning over him.

 

“Right!” Gerard said excitedly, taking his hands, “Follow me.”

 

Everyone followed the brothers - Adelaide included - to the ballroom. Gerard had a skip in his step, sitting his brother down in a chair and messing around with the controls until the song came on. Even with the first few lines, Mikey’s face fell into awe. Gerard and the rest of the band watched with glee.

 

When the song was over, the room was filled with waiting silence. Mikey looked from each individual before landing his eyes on Gerard. Then suddenly, he stood up and hugged him tightly.

 

“I love you.” He said shakily into Gerard’s shoulder, “Do you mean it?”

 

“Yeah. I do, Mikes.” He sort of laughed, sort of sniffed.

 

“That settles it.” He said loud enough for everyone to hear, pulling away from Gerard, “I’m staying.”

 

It was like a bomb defused. Mikey was bombarded by the rest of the band, hugging him from all sides. Bob even lifted him off the ground. Gerard’s chest swelled with joy. He got Mikey back! His plan worked! Frank seemed to understand it all, the look of pure happiness on his smiling face as well.

 

His friend Pete dropped his bags off around dinner, which was a big party hosted by Adelaide and Ray. Frank, Bob, and Gerard filled in Mikey on what he missed. He was pissed about the Emily happenings. He rubbed the letters on Gerard’s arm soothingly as Frank told him about the pool incident. He was especially furious about that.

 

“We need to get a priest or  _ something _ .” He offered to the table.

 

Adelaide put her fork down, “A priest can merely bless the house.”

 

“So it doesn’t work.” Mikey huffed, falling back in his chair, “Awesome. Anything else I should know about?”

 

Frank and Gerard exchanged a glance, “We’re reincarnates.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Adelaide went into a spiel about Alfred and Bennett and how her friend was certain the two were Gerard and Frank in their past lives. To Gerard’s surprise, he seemed to believe it, too. Gerard was tempted to tell him about how he and Frank were… sort of an item but didn’t say anything without first discussing it with the other half of the affair. Frank had come out to the band as bisexual a couple years ago but everyone just assumed Gerard was straight. He didn’t know if he was bi or gay or - or  _ whatever _ . He had a lot of thinking to do before he said anything to the band. Outing their relationship would be like outing himself. He’d have to have a label before he said ‘oh by the way, Frank and I are together’. 

 

Were they together? They mostly just messed around and kissed. They hadn’t really talked about what they were. Most of the time Gerard felt like he was using him for sex. Which didn’t feel good at all.

 

After dinner and a brief argument with Frank, it was decided Mikey would sleep in Gerard’s room. Frank did steal a kiss before he went to bed, though. It was a close call, too. Ray almost saw them.

 

Mikey was already on the bed, tired no doubt. Gerard changed into his sleepwear and climbed in next to him. It was silent for a second, Mikey rolling over so he could run his hands over the scarring on Gerard’s arm. But then Gerard dropped the bomb of the century at almost 11 o’clock at night.

 

“I think I’m gay.” He said quickly, glaring at the ceiling.

 

Mikey’s smile was evident in his voice, “I know.”

 

“You know?” Gerard choked on the words, his voice cracking.

 

“Of course! I’m your brother for crying out loud, I noticed these things.” He chuckled, “Jake in college? You were gonna marry him. Bert during the warped tour? Dude, the happiest I’ve ever seen you is when you’re with boys.”

 

“Huh.” He put his hands over his face, “Why do my boyfriends end so badly, though?”

 

“Cause they were shit people. Frank’s good people, though. The best people.”

 

“Mikey!” He shot his head in his direction, eyes wide.

 

He just laughed, “You think I don’t know? Saw you guys kiss in the hall. How long?”

 

“A few days. We fucked before I was flung into the pool.” He groaned.

 

Mikey winced, “Oh, God. I can’t imagine how he felt. Confesses to the love of his life and he almost drowns right after.”

 

“Try being the one thrown.” Gerard huffed.

 

“Do you love him?” Mikey asked in a way like he  _ knew _ .

 

“Of course I do.” He paused, “I just… when he kissed me, I didn’t know, y’know?”

 

“I do. I knew. He always vented about how much he wished he was the one kissing you. Like all of warped tour.” He snickered, “His jealousy was cute and very obvious.”

 

“Not obvious enough.” Gerard mumbled. “I do like him like  _ a lot _ . His lips are soft and he’s so gentle and kind but...”

 

“But?”

 

He groaned, “But… he’s  _ Frank. _ My guitarist! I can feel myself falling in love but I’m not there yet and I just feel like I’m using him.”

 

“You ever tell him about this?” Mikey yawned.

 

“No, it would break his heart.” He admitted.

 

A pause.

 

“Write a song about it.”

 

“What?” Gerard asked, incredulous.

 

“Well, it matches the theme of the album. Sad, melancholic. You love someone but you aren’t entirely sure which type of love.” He yawned again, “I think it would make for a good love rock ballad.”

 

“You think?”

 

“Frank thinks so, too. I’m sure he’d love that a song is about him. Especially a Gerard love song.” He slurred, “Good night, Gee. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

 

“Night…” Gerard let it fade, already thinking of lyrics.

 

…

 

“I was the only one who tried to help him out. You don’t even remember the time he actually got the nerves to do anything.”

 

“I… what?” He asked, confused, bite of cereal almost to his mouth. 

 

The rest of the guys were out getting more groceries, picking up doughnuts on the way back. But it was almost 11 and Gerard was  _ starving _ . Mikey sat across the table, picking at a piece of raisin bread. 

 

“Fuck. That sounded better in my head. You know that old footage from like 2003 where we were all drunk off our rockers?”

 

Gerard nodded.

 

“I cut out the film where the camera guy caught you and Frank in the back room making out  _ completely _ wasted after the show. I still have it somewhere in a shoebox. Probably under my bed or something. I thought you two might want it if you ever got together.” He smiled slyly, “I can see it in your face, Gee. You want that film.”

 

“Well, I just… I’m curious. How long is it?” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice.

 

“About 5 minutes worth of you guys sucking face. It ends with the camera guy saying ‘oh fuck’ as Frank started like… God I don’t even wanna say it. But yeah. He spooked you guys and then the camera guy escapes to the hallway where he proceeds to record me throwing up.” Mikey shuddered, “So glad I don’t do that anymore.”

 

“Me, too.” Gerard paused carefully, “What did he start to do?”

 

“He was getting… grabby at your, uh.” He did a weird swirling motion towards Gerard’s lap.

 

“Oh.  _ Oh _ . I’m sorry you had to see that.”

 

“Just be glad I cut it out so that it wouldn’t be posted online. ‘MCR’s Biggest Scandal Yet’! Gag me.” He grumbled.

 

From the hallway, Frank said, “What’s our biggest scandal?”

 

Ray kicked at him from behind, “Your lack of being able to carry more than one thing at a time!”

 

“You’re like twice my size! That’s not even  _ fair. _ ” He grumbled, stumbling into the kitchen and perking up when he met Gerard’s eyes.

 

Mikey of course noticed the small exchange and nudged his brother under the table, lifting his nose in the air triumphantly before fiddling with his sidekick. Ray passed out doughnuts to everyone and left the rest in the box, resting in the middle of the table. Gerard snatched a maple doughnut and an apple fritter before Bob hogged all the good ones. He always had a habit of doing such. Frank sat in the seat next to Gerard and definitely was judging the feast he had before him, cereal and all. He turned to make a face but Frank gently cupped his chin, eyeing him weirdly. Gerard could feel everyone staring at them.

 

He leaned in just the slightest before he caught on and reached up to Gerard’s nose, wiping off some maple frosting, “You should learn to eat with your mouth, not your whole face.”

 

Beside him, Mikey snorted, breaking the tension around them. Underneath the table, the couple had resorted to hooking ankles instead of kissing the frosting off of each other’s faces. It would’ve been super sweet, no pun intended. Maybe after all the mansion shenanigans were all said and done, they could have a sweet, domestic life like that. Gerard would wake up and go into the kitchen to see Frank eating his weird combination of peanut butter toast and powdered sugar, inevitably getting the powder on his face. He would be sneaky about it, acting as if he’d come for a good morning kiss when, in reality, he’d wrap his arms around Frank’s waist and lick his cheek. Frank would probably shove the last of the toast in his mouth and roll his eyes, used to the bullshit but glad it wasn’t stopping.

 

He must’ve had that slack-jawed fantasy face because Mikey nudged him just before Frank asked if he was going to eat his apple fritter. He wasn’t. The rest of breakfast was a little awkward, the band pretending that they hadn’t seen something potentially special while the two in question were pretending that Gerard’s bedroom was soundproof the night before. (Frank had bet that guys could have multiple orgasms during sex just like a girl could and then promptly pulled a small pink vibrator out of his bag.) 

 

Mikey went to go take a shower, Ray wanted some time to himself in the garden, and Bob seemed very keen on getting a head start on his drum stuff, leaving Frank and Gerard alone to discuss.

 

“Hey,” Frank started off softly, “I’m sorry about the whole frosting thing. I wasn’t thinking.”

 

“No, I understand. I just… I’m sure they all know after last night but what would we even tell them?” He huffed, slumping against the other dramatically.

 

“Maybe that we’re together?” Frank scoffed jokingly before pausing, “This is a really big deal to you, isn’t it?”

 

He stood up straight, “Of course it is! I mean, we’re really risking everything here. I’m honestly… I’m anxious.”

 

Gerard let Frank wrap his arms around him, “You’re stuck up on ‘what if’s’. Like apparently we’re gay reincarnates who just so happen to fall in love in the same place. How cool is that!?”

 

“Okay. It’s pretty cool.” He admitted.

 

“The only way I don’t see us working out is if one of us died or you found someone else.” Frank wavered, “When I say I want us to be together, I mean it. I’m not quick to love.”

 

“I’m not either.” Gerard chewed on his nail for a second before sighing dramatically, “This is just the first relationship with a guy that I’ve had since college and that was… shit.”

 

He scoffed again, “Well, I’m not exactly some college boy, am I?”

 

Looking right into Frank’s eyes, he couldn’t help but smile, “You’re right. You aren’t. I’m sorry. When should we tell them?”

 

Frank let his hand fall onto Gerard’s thigh, “Dinner?”

 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “that’s enough time to figure out what to say.”

 

Gerard kissed him briefly as a second apology and Frank forgave him instantly. The moment didn’t last, however, since Mikey was stood in the kitchen doorway with a cold cup of coffee in his hand, “Oh,” he said.

 

Gerard wasn’t exactly  _ shocked _ \- Mikey had seen them kiss before - but Frank, on the other hand, looked like he was about to run for cover. It felt like the longest second of his life as his newfound boyfriend and brother stared at each other.

 

“Um,” Frank said intelligently.

 

Mikey cut him off with a sweeping gesture, “You don’t have to explain.”

 

“But I-” He looked to Gerard, “ _ we _ -”

 

“Seriously,” Mikey smiled a sort of crooked smile, “you don’t have to.”

 

“We already,” Gerard paused when Frank snapped his head in his direction so fast it wasn’t healthy, “talked about it. He saw us kiss in the hallway before.”

 

“Oh,” he sighed and put his hand back onto Gerard’s leg. “Of course. Mikey knows just about everything when it comes to you.”

 

“And more.” Mikey said mysteriously, putting the cup in the sink, “Bob knows, too.”

 

“What? Why?” Frank asked and when he looked to Gerard, he was just greeted with a confused shrug.

 

After a snort, Mikey said, “Maybe because Gerard’s room is right next to his?”

 

Horrified, Gerard laughed, “Oh, God. He knows too much.”

 

Frank’s nails were starting to dig into Gerard’s thigh but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he put his hand over Frank’s, prompting him to say, “So basically we only need to break it to Ray?”

 

“If Bob knows, so does Ray.” Mikey shrugged.

 

Gerard huffed, “So maybe we should just be all… romantic or whatever and eventually the point will get across?”

 

“I mean, you definitely got the point across last night. Hell, even  _ I  _ heard. Not much, though. Pete gave me his old MP3.” He rambled casually, as if he wasn’t talking about how loud his brother and his boyfriend were the night before, “Oh! Speaking of music, did you ever finish that song we talked about, Gee?”

 

Frank looked between them suspiciously after Gerard nodded and said, “I did and it’s great.”

 

“What song?”

 

The song, as mentioned beforehand, was probably one of the most lyrically confusing if you didn’t know what or  _ who _ the song was about. The title in itself didn’t really capture how Gerard felt about Frank at all:  _ I Don’t Love You. _

 

What Gerard showed the rest of the band was a really shitty demo he recorded before anyone woke up. He had stolen Ray’s guitar and tried his best to sing and play at the same time. Needless to say, Gerard had to explain half of the song to his bandmates around them. Ray was overall impressed with the fact that Gerard could steal a guitar right from under his nose and then record a demo with it. Mikey nodded along and made helpful comments. Bob gave Gerard points for being able to sing and play at the same time, knowing that, to Gerard, it was like texting with chopsticks. 

 

Frank stood frozen with his eyes on the speakers, even after the song had ended and Gerard was clearing things up.

 

“-definitely. I think we could switch between super soft and  _ rah!  _ If you get me.” He was saying to Ray, “I know you can’t tell very much by-”

 

“Interesting lyrics.” Frank interrupted.

 

Gerard stopped, mouth open and hands frozen in mid-gesture, “Thanks?”

 

“Do you mind if I ask what it’s about?”

 

Ray hummed, “Yeah, I was wondering that, too.”

 

He made eye contact with Mikey, then Bob, then Ray. Frank was waiting - they  _ all  _ were - because, usually, Gerard  _ told _ them what the lyrics were about. Even if it was super personal. They loved super personal because that made the songs way better. Skylines and Turnstiles felt like pulling a dagger out of his heart when he wrote it and it was one of their best songs. (Just to prove the point more).

 

“It’s, well, it’s a role reversal. I’m singing from someone else’s point of view in a relationship with confusing feelings. So I guess I’m singing about myself in the eyes of someone else. Except for the chorus. That’s all me.”

 

“That doesn’t tell us what the song is about.” Mikey waved with his sidekick, the bastard.

 

Gerard huffed, “Okay. It’s about Emily, the violence she has brought me, and a relationship. Frank and I’s… relationship.”

 

A chorus of ‘oh’ broke out. Frank and Gerard stared at each other for a long time. He hoped that the song would be a good thing; despite all the shit they’ve been through - and the fact that Gerard had, at one point, only loved Frank as a friend - they were together and they were happy. Gerard didn’t love Frank the way he did before; he loved him more, if it was humanly possible.

 

“Can you guys give us a minute?” Frank asked without looking away from Gerard.

 

Everyone was standing sort of frozen. Gerard supposed they were scared of what might happen if they did leave because he was afraid of the very same thing.

 

“Leave!” Frank gestured to the hallway angrily and it was then that everyone left them alone, albeit, it was a hesitant exit.

 

Once they heard the sound of a door closing, the discussion began:

 

“Frank, I-”

 

“Don’t.” He put up a hand, “I thought we agreed on dinner tonight?”

 

“But Mikey said that Ray knew.”

 

He threw his hands up, “Maybe I wanted to tell them myself! Make it official!”

 

“I - I’m sorry, Frank, I didn’t  _ know _ .” Gerard frowned and gestured weirdly; it was something of opening his arms out for a hug and pointing to the ground.

 

Frank’s face was turning red so he knew the conversation wasn’t over by a longshot, “And what the fuck?! This song-”

 

“- I wrote it for you -”

 

“-doesn’t sound all that positive.”

 

Gerard blinked, “It’s a love song.”

 

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because it looked like Frank was three seconds away from taking Gerard’s neck in his hands and killing him  _ himself _ , never mind Emily, “To who!? It sounds like you’re just using me for - for  _ sex _ !”

 

“That’s what it felt like.” Gerard admitted, “At first. I told you I didn’t know about the whole ‘Frank pining after Gerard since the dawn of time’ thing! That night, when we were together, it felt weird-”

 

“ _ Weird _ !” Frank scoffed.

 

He sputtered, “Like - like you were my best friend but now it was like… not that!”

 

“What are you trying to say?” He said in a deadly tone.

 

Gerard was angry by then, too, “What? Do you want me to say it bluntly?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“ _ You were just a best friend with a good dick! _ ”

 

Silence.

 

The most ear-piercing silence Gerard had ever heard.

 

Frank looked at him as if he had killed a kitten right in front of him. But that expression was soon gone and replaced by something more than fury, “Fuck you, Gerard.  _ I  _ don’t love you.” He poked Gerard’s chest hard once before stomping off toward the gardens.

 

Dramatically - or appropriately, some might say - Gerard sank to his knees and stared after him. He didn’t get to tell Frank what it meant. What the song  _ really _ meant. He didn’t know how long he had been there like that when Mikey carefully walked in and helped him onto his feet. They hugged for what felt like forever. No tears were shed, no words were said. That night, Mikey filled the right side of the mattress where Frank usually slept.

 

…

 

“You did  _ what _ ?” Gerard asked incredulously, staring at his brother with eyes wide and mouth agape.

 

“Why else would I have a chunk of Pete’s wardrobe?” He asked like sharing clothes was a strictly romantic thing. He shared clothes with the rest of the bandmates and the thought of kissing Bob was as unpleasant as cleaning a toilet with your bare hands.

 

“I just thought you bought some new clothes or  _ something. _ ” Gerard huffed and flopped onto the mattress, “I am… so shocked right now.”

 

“Dude,” Mikey laughed, laying down next to him, “he’s liked me since 2004.”

 

Gerard gestured to the ceiling, “And you just  _ now _ got together?”

 

“Well, no.”

 

“ _ Mikey, _ ”

 

“I know, I know.” He sighed and played with the strings of Gerard’s hoodie, “It’s casual, though.”

 

“Long distance generally is.” Gerard sighed, too, “You have my blessing.”

 

Mikey snorted and shoved his hand in Gerard’s face, “You’re an idiot.”

 

It felt good to have Mikey back. Even if Gerard had managed to fuck up his only good chance at love with Frank, he still had his brother and honestly, that was all that mattered. His brother was laughing, no longer a single man, and even looked like he was getting sleep. 

 

All these factors contributed to what Gerard said next, “Your mom’s an idiot.”

 

“We have the same mom.” Mikey rolled his eyes and himself over, “Are we ever gonna talk about you?”

 

Confused for a second, Gerard asked, “What about me?” before he realized.

 

He didn’t want to talk about what happened for a multitude of reasons. But predominantly because Frank was no longer on speaking terms with Gerard. That was only when Frank was around Gerard long enough, though. Generally, the only times they saw each other were during practice. 

 

Gerard had fallen into a momentary depression so Emily didn’t have to make him hurt like usual. Bennett and Alfred were apart, for all she cared. His night terrors were back and even more disturbing than usual. Frank never volunteered to be on Gerard Watch. At that point, Mikey was practically living on Gerard’s tiny couch.

 

“You have to talk at some point, you know that.” He said soothingly, “We all heard so it’s not like I don’t know anything.”

 

Gerard sighed, long and miserable, “I just never got to tell him what I felt.”

 

After a beat, Mikey said, “Write another song.”

 

“Yeah, cause that went pretty well the first time.” Gerard huffed and smacked Mikey’s hands away from his hoodie strings. It was too close to his neck and lately, all of his night terrors involved some kind of breathing deficiency. Or none at all.

 

Mikey shrugged the best he could while laying down, “You’re probably right. But you should at least talk to him.”

 

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” He moaned desperately into his hands.

 

He honest to God had tried to settle things between him and Frank. But Frank was stubborn and Gerard often wasn’t very persistent when it came to being met with constant rejection. He’d tried to talk to Frank about the chord progression in a song but he went on talking to Ray like Gerard wasn’t even there. That didn’t hurt as much as the time Gerard knocked on his door and admitted in a soft voice that he was sorry and that he loved him so very much, only to have the door slammed in his face.

 

“Yeah.” Mikey sighed and awkwardly patted Gerard’s elbow in some ditch effort to comfort him, “I still can’t believe he said he didn’t love you.”

 

“He didn’t mean it,” Gerard started off, unsure if he was reassuring Mikey or himself, “but it still hurts.”

 

“I know.” He said at the same time as a knock came from the door, “Yeah?”

 

It was Bob, “Toro wants Mikey in the ballroom.”

 

Gerard sat up alongside Mikey and was given a hug before being left alone for the first time in a long time. Nothing happened like all the other times, though, because Gerard was too busy fighting off gut wrenching emotions and feeling sorry for himself. He definitely thought too much, that was for sure. 

 

It was in the bathroom, just about to turn on the faucet that he realized Mikey’s song idea wasn’t all that bad. Sometimes Gerard just wrote little poetry type things for himself to keep him sane. If it turned into a song, well, then it was a bonus. He dashed to his suitcase and pulled out his notebook, leafing through it till he found an empty page. Once the pen touched the paper, he didn’t stop writing. It was all brain goop and sadness and  _ angst _ and just - just the self hatred that coincides rejection.

 

Even when Mikey came in and played bass upside down on the couch for way too long, Gerard’s hand didn’t stop until he was finished. After scratching down lyrics only God himself could read, he penned the title at the top of the page:  _ House of Wolves _ .

 

Some of his favorite lines were the ones he didn’t sugar coat. Hell, the whole song wasn’t sugar coated but… well, he knew what he meant anyway. He closed the book and stood up, oscillating. Should he show it to the guys? It was kind of a rough draft but Gerard liked it and it  _ rhymed _ so… ah, fuck it. Ray would probably work on a song about toothbrushes with Gerard, much less another song about love and violence. 

 

Ray was still in the ballroom, staring harshly at the piano as if it had beat him in a game of cards or something. Gerard didn’t care for more than a heartbeat before he tapped his shoulder, “Hey, man, I think I got something.”

 

Seemingly happy about having something to distract him from the piano, Ray took the notebook and read the lyrics silently to himself. He didn’t seem extremely wowed by it but a thoughtful smile and a nod was enough for Gerard at that point. Ray waved him over to his set up and they began to work. Ray already had some sort of melancholic beginning without a song to match it to so after a key adjustment, they had the basis of the first part of the song. After about another 30 minutes, Ray decided the rest of the band needed to be in on it.

 

One by one, the members of My Chemical Romance trickled into the ballroom, confused and intrigued. The guitarists took to themselves while Gerard tried his best to explain the song structure to Bob. 

 

“It’s slow and then it gets a little bit faster? And then the chorus kicks in.” He explained in a strained voice.

 

Somehow, though, Bob understood. Frank always joked that Bob’s high school had a language class called Gerardish because it seemed he was the only one who understood even the vaguest of directions from him. 

 

Gerard walked over to the rest of the guys and listened in to their discussion. Frank offered his part of the song and played it in unison with Ray’s. Mikey tried his best to catch up, really only playing the base notes of the chords they were strumming. Gerard put a hand on Mikey’s shoulder and said, “Frank, play that part again.”

 

He made a face down at his guitar but played his isolated part of the song nonetheless. Gerard got chills. Oh, yeah. They were definitely recording a live demo. 

 

They didn’t get to finish that day because it was super late and everyone was super hungry by the end of writing the music for the bridge. Ray went into the kitchen to make some kind of wrap? Who knew. Once Frank had his guitar on the stand, he approached Gerard cautiously as if Frank had been the one to write a not-so-love-song.

 

“Hey.” He said.

 

Gerard said, “Hi,” because his mother raised him better than to be a petty bitch.

 

“You know, I never did get to look at the lyrics.” He gestured to the book in Gerard’s hand, “I only ever heard you sing what you had and… well, they sounded cool and I was just wondering-”

 

“You’re rambling.” Gerard interrupted him.

 

With a sigh, Frank said, “I know.”

 

He swayed side to side awkwardly, “Can I trust you?”

 

Something broke on Frank’s face and Gerard got a sadistic touch of joy from it. He didn’t want to hurt Frank, don’t get him wrong, but for a moment it was like he was feeling what Gerard had been for almost 4 days. He didn’t say anything for the longest time, just staring at Gerard.

 

Eventually, he answered with his own question, “Can… will you walk with me? In the gardens? I really… I’ve just got a lot to say.”

 

Gerard found himself saying, “Okay.”

 

Obviously, the gardens were dark as all hell but the sunset was so beautiful and the lights outside were enough to walk about a hundred feet away until you were in complete darkness. He’d seen plenty of wedding pictures of the gardens and how beautiful it was during the summer and spring but he’d never actually come out to walk through it until then. The only time that came close was the photoshoot but that day felt like a century ago compared to then. Frank didn’t start talking until he watched Gerard fidget with the poem book still in his hands. 

 

“I’m honestly not even sure where to begin,” he admitted, “I guess I could start with I am so unbelievably sorry. I wouldn’t even be mad if you couldn’t forgive me.”

 

Gerard scoffed, “I forgave you a long time ago.”

 

“Oh,” he said like that hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Thank you.”

 

He made a noncommittal noise and gestured for Frank to continue.

 

“Mikey… talked to me, actually. Told me that the song was about something way different than I thought it was.” He kicked at a stick and sighed, “You still loved me but it was a different kind of love than it was after we got together. It was about your transitional period between ‘like and  _ like  _ like’ as Mikey said.”

 

Gerard sort of laughed, “Sounds like something he’d say.”

 

Frank shared an uneasy smile, “Yeah. Um. Huh… I just - well, I think I should apologize again.”

 

“I told you I forgive you. And that means everything you did.” Gerard said seriously, standing on the border where the light bled into darkness, “You were mad, you said some things.”

 

“It's not that simple, though.” He groaned, “I said I didn’t love you.”

 

“But you do.” Gerard shrugged.

 

Frank stood there, opening and closing his mouth weirdly. Almost like a fish, “You’re taking this apology really well.”

 

“Because I missed you!” He threw his hands up, almost dropping his poetry book, “You were everything right there in front of me and then you just… left.”

 

“Fuck.” Frank said and carefully held one of Gerard’s hands.

 

“Amen.” He agreed with a smile, “I’ve never  _ not _ loved you. It’s just all a matter of reading lyrics right, I suppose.”

 

“And I never got to read them.” Frank said sadly.

 

Gerard was honestly surprised he was so quick to forgive Frank but he really just wanted him back. Frank needed time to cool off, Gerard needed time to write another song - so it turned out okay in the end, right? He lead them back towards the house, hand in hand, and said, “Stay in my room tonight and I’ll let you read whatever the fuck you want out of the damn book.”

 

When Gerard told Mikey that Frank was on Watch that night, he had never seen his brother so overjoyed to sleep in his own room. A room that was basically haunted, too. Gerard overheard Ray convincing him to at least sleep in Frank’s room as he was closing his bedroom door. He sighed at the closed door because  _ wow _ , that’s why. He was content again. Frank was in the bathroom getting ready for bed and the very sound of it was just… comforting.

 

Gerard stood against the doorframe and sort of watched him. He wasn’t doing anything exciting - just washing his face - but it felt like he was watching something intimate? God, he didn’t know. But it was sweet because as soon as Frank was done, he touched the inside of Gerard’s wrist and was suddenly very, very close.

 

“Hey,” he said for the second time that night.

 

“Hey,” Gerard repeated.

 

Frank was sort of stroking his arm, “Are we, um, on no kissing terms?”

 

It was a real question and a normal person would respond first but Gerard couldn’t stop himself from giggling, “No, we aren’t.”

 

“So,” 

 

“So kiss me.” Gerard said simply and Frank did as told.

 

He was in heaven. It was like their first kiss. Their second first kiss, really. Few people got something like that and the fact Frank was so close and smelled so sweet just made Gerard  _ melt _ . He didn’t have time to turn into liquid in Frank’s hands, though, because from inside the room came a loud, familiar noise. When they parted, Frank opened his mouth to speak but Gerard pressed his finger to his lips - or on his cheek because he was looking into the room, catching the glimpse of a red dress.

 

Emily was stood with her back facing the lovers, a journal that was definitely Frank’s in her hand. Beside her was the bedside table on its side, the contents that were in the drawer now on the floor. Among the receipts, random papers, and pens were the things that aided in the nights Frank and Gerard spent together. 

 

When Emily turned around, she didn’t look angry, she was  _ crying _ . Her heavy makeup was smeared down her cheeks, as if her tears were black. She stared at the two men with such a sad, sad expression that Gerard felt guilty. That was until he saw the butchers knife in her hand. She staggered a couple steps forward and tossed the book to the side, “I had you. I almost had you. But you just keep  _ getting back together _ !”

 

Gerard was utterly paralyzed, even when Emily went to throw the knife. Thankfully, Frank had instincts and thought fast enough to grab Gerard by the middle and force him downwards. When he forced him upright again, he was shocked to see the knife stuck to the wall behind them. Emily was still stood there, deranged. 

 

“You fucking faggot!” She sobbed, “All these ‘business meetings’? All these ‘emergency shifts’? They were just to get to him, wasn’t it?”

 

She pointed viciously at Gerard and Frank stood there dumbfounded, realizing all too soon that a ghost was in front of him and was demanding an answer. Meekly, he said, “Yes.”

 

_ No! _ Gerard screamed internally,  _ Why are you playing her game!? _

 

Frank seemed to read that on his face but gave him a look that meant ‘just wait’ and took a careful step towards Emily, “I’m - I’m sorry I lied to you.”

 

“You  _ are _ ?” Emily asked incredulously.

 

Finally, he put the pieces together. Frank was trying to give her what she never got when she killed her fiance the first time: the confrontation she deserved.

 

“I am.” Frank said sincerely for not being Bennett in the first place, “I was ashamed of these desires I’ve been dealing with my whole life. I should’ve told you sooner, even if you… well, even if it ruined my reputation. You mean a lot to me and I do love you, just not in the way I should.”

 

Gerard, absolutely terrified and in the corner, watched as Emily’s posture straightened and she looked… not angry but  _ mollified _ . She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, “I wish it didn’t have to end up this way.”

 

Frank was doing a marvelous job at pretending to be a dead fiance but when Emily took his hands into her own, Gerard saw fear plain on his face. His voice trembled, “As do I.”

 

With horror, Gerard watched Emily pull Frank in for a hug, say, “I suppose it’s time I leave.”

 

For maybe a second, Gerard thought it would be okay but Emily was a ghost, a livid spirit with power beyond Gerard’s imagination. He watched her lift her hand and in it was none other than the smallest pistol Gerard had ever seen.

 

Before he could stop himself he was on his feet, “No!”

 

The gun went off regardless but Emily was caught off guard. Frank managed to pull himself away and run towards the door and Gerard was glad for a hot second until the gun was pointed at him.

 

“You did this!” She accused him, “I loved him first, you fucking-”

 

Gerard didn’t give her time to finish because he was on his feet and following Frank’s footsteps out the door. This didn’t get rid of the problem at hand, though. In fact, she ran after them, shooting aimlessly and carelessly. The guys were outside of their rooms by then, confused and then afraid. Blatantly afraid. Gerard could barely form a command for them to hide and/or run before another shot was fired way too close to his head.

 

He was almost scott free when the front doors locked. Frank was on the other side, free, while Gerard had his back against the wood, staring into the mad eyes of Emily Richard. She was just about to fire until out of fucking nowhere, Adelaide and a woman he had never seen before stood between the two. Adelaide didn’t even  _ look _ like Adelaide - no skirts or pretty blouses. She was wearing something that could’ve been a gender switched Indiana Jones costume. 

 

“Emily Richard, I hereby declare you officially deceased.” The unknown woman said as Adelaide pulled a wooden statue out of her pocket and a lighter, “You have terrorized both the living and the once alive for long enough. May God have mercy upon your soul.”

 

In an instant, the tiny figure in Adelaide’s gloved hand was in flames and so was Emily. As a last ditch effort to kill Gerard, she fired one last time but the bullet, inches away from Gerard’s nose, stopped and fell to the ground.

 

The silence he heard next was terrifying. So much happened within such a short amount of time that he felt sick. He jumped as the door started moving away from his back and bumped into Adelaide as Frank entered the building again, looking at Gerard as if he expected to find him dead. 

 

Thankfully, neither of them needed to say anything because Ray asked the universal question for them, “You aren’t the groundskeeper, are you?”

 

…

 

Gerard was staring into his cup of tea. Frank was sort of holding him while Mikey was clutched onto his brother’s right hand. Ray sat at Gerard’s feet and Bob just sat a few feet away on the couch, concerned but not really wanting to get in on the scared hug deal. Across from them, Adelaide was sat in the lone chair with Miriam, who they came to find out, stood at her right, tall and proud. 

 

She was a gruff looking woman with wiry black hair and silvery eyes. She looked as if she had done some hard time in the military and Gerard had so many questions to ask her but didn’t know where to start.

 

Apparently she could read minds so she started without being prompted, “We’ve been trying to get rid of Emily for a very long time. But the only way we could even begin to force her to pass on was to get her into her tangible form. Unfortunately, that required a serious fit of rage to happen.”

 

“The statue?” Gerard asked the best he could.

 

“It was what she was attached to. It was a tiny cat that Bennett had made for her days before his death.” Adelaide explained.

 

“So,” Frank started off slowly, “you knew that this was going to happen?”

 

The ladies shared a look, “Not exactly. But… history tends to repeat itself. Tonight is the anniversary of Alfred and Bennett’s death.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Said Ray, his cold hand brushing against Gerard’s ankle.

 

Miriam nodded, “We were glad that we caught her when she did and I apologize. I told Adelaide not to say anything to all of you so that nothing looked staged. If you knew that being together would cause a situation like this to happen, then maybe you would stay away from one another and we didn’t want that to happen.”

 

“And,” Adelaide added, “I’m afraid you boys will have to leave tomorrow.”

 

Finally, Bob spoke up, “Woah! No one said anything about fucking leaving.”

 

She sighed, “I think… after everything, it’s best.”

 

Bob was just about to say something again but Gerard cut him off, “No, she’s right. We’ve been through enough. Even though Emily is gone, I don’t think I can spend one more fucking day here. It’s put me and all of you through hell. Let’s just… stay at a hotel for the next few nights until the trucks come back.”

 

“With Brian.” Mikey smiled.

 

“I fucking miss Brian, man.” Ray said emphatically.

 

“Definitely with Brian.” Gerard smiled and then it was settled, simple as that.

 

Feeling different, the whole lot of them packed up their belongings while Gerard tried his best to explain the situation to Brian in a way that didn’t make him sound crazy. In the end, he handed the phone over to Adelaide and she explained. Brian was going to call the nearest hotel so that the band could pack up without the stress. God, when he saw Brian he was going to kiss him. In front of  _ Frank _ . 

 

With all of his stuff folded and in his suitcase, he stood silently by the bed. A lot had happened in the time they’d been there. He’d met his first blood thirsty ghost - or first ghost in general, really. He’d written so many songs he felt proud of, lost and gained a bassist, finally got together with his supposed soulmate, and had all the scars to prove it. 

 

Ray came in a minute later looking for his Bowie record with Frank behind him, looking happy as ever. Gerard handed him the record and rubbed at the scabs on his arm that read ‘not yours’. He’d have to get some scar cream or something because he definitely didn’t want to think about how the words got there. Frank noticed and offered a sad smile.

 

“It’ll fade.” He shrugged, running his hand along the letters, too, “If not, I’m sure we can find something to cover it up.”

 

“I’m more worried about the interviews.” Gerard sighed, “‘What happened in that mansion?’”

 

“They’ll always ask. I’m still asked about our first tour and I can’t recall most of it.” Frank chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed.

 

Gerard sat down, too and put his head on Frank’s shoulder. Even though he was extremely excited to leave the mansion, he was a little attached to some part of it. It was in his room that he figured out just who Frank was to him.

 

Frank was thinking the same thing, “It’s funny how our first kiss will always be inside a haunted mansion.”

 

Gerard chuckled, “Not exactly our first.”

 

His laugh was warm and low, “Mikey told you, didn’t he?”

 

“He’s gonna give me the tape so we can watch it.” 

 

“Ah, yes, that’ll be fun.” Frank said in a half sarcastic voice, “I get to watch both of us makeout while completely shitfaced.”

 

“I’m just upset I don’t remember.” Gerard frowned, “That’s five minutes that I really wish I could look back on.”

 

Frank said, “You kill me,” and they laughed at the irony of such a statement.

 

When the taxi came about an hour later, it was so late that Gerard was certain parts of the world hadn’t even loaded yet like they were in one big game of Sims. Gerard was reminded of the first day they came, all packed in the taxi. Bob sat shotgun while the rest of them reluctantly crammed into the back seat. Frank was basically sitting on Ray’s lap and after poking fun at him long enough, he scooted his way onto Gerard’s leg. His efforts were futile, though, because Gerard was his boyfriend and didn’t care.

 

This time, though, Frank wasn’t chewing on his fingernails, dreading the stay ahead of him. Mikey wasn’t half asleep, holding onto Gerard’s hand. Well, he was holding his hand but he was wide awake, his fingers trembling because of too much coffee. Ray was asleep, though, by the time they made it to the hotel. Bob had to half carry him inside because he was so overwhelmingly exhausted. Gerard and Frank helped carry all the bags since two men were down. 

 

“Three?” Mikey asked the lady at the desk, “Why would Brian only book-”

 

He stopped himself when he turned to look at Gerard. He watched his brother shrug guiltily.

 

“You  _ told _ him?” He asked incredulously as if telling Brian something pretty important was a bad thing.

 

“He’s fine with it. Costs him less money anyway.” Frank brushed it off easily and pocketed the key to the room. He leaned in to whisper to Gerard, “We have Brian’s blessing. He texted me.”

 

The grin on his face was seriously painful. 

 

The room was a freaking  _ honeymoon suite _ . Never mind kissing Brian, he would  _ marry _ him. Gerard put his bags down and stared at the simplistic yet extravagant room. The bed could easily fit four people, he swore. It was regal and white with pops of color. Frank was marveling at the bathroom while Gerard sprawled out onto the bed with childish glee; he felt like a king in his quarters. 

 

“Dude, the bathroom could fit you, me, Bob -  _ all of us _ !” He said with absolute pure joy, skipping into the room and launching himself onto the bed. He sunk down slowly and groaned, “I’m gonna totally kiss Brian. He totally didn’t have to do this.”

 

“I was gonna kiss him, too.” Gerard giggled and rolled over to smile at him. He twirled Frank’s hair between his fingers, “Isn’t this awesome?”

 

“Yeah,” he smiled, voice breathless, “I get to appreciate you without the threat of you dying.”

 

“All thanks to Adelaide and Brian.” He shook his head and tore his hand away from Frank’s hair to his hand, “I still can’t believe Adelaide was some kind of spiritual evil defeater.”

 

Frank laughed giddily, “Right!? All this time and it never even came to mind. I never once thought anything of her expansive knowledge about Emily or how to keep her away  _ or _ how she knew how to properly dress wounds! The signs were all there!”

 

“We were kind of in the middle of a crisis.” Gerard smiled crookedly, “God bless hindsight, I guess.”

 

Due to exhaustion, the very obvious honeymoon part of the suite wasn’t used; they just crawled into bed wearing whatever clothes they threw on. Gerard was halfway through a tease when it really swept over him and he yawned, forgetting completely that he’d been making fun of Frank’s barely held together sweatpants.

 

He was going to sleep like a corpse, that he knew. He was safe, next to someone he cared very much about, and was nowhere near a drafty, 100-year-old house. Contentment, that’s what it was. With Frank’s arm around his middle, Gerard gave him a kiss good night.

 

“Mmm,” Frank hummed, tired but pleased, “Tomorrow, I promise I won’t be as tired.”

 

“I wouldn’t even care if you were.” Gerard yawned, “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

There was a small pause before Frank moved until he felt comfortable. His hand was under Gerard’s shirt, resting on his bare back while his head was just under Gerard’s. God, this was definitely more than just contentment. He was in a state of bliss. Heaven on Earth.

 

“Hey, Gee?” Frank’s voice was muffled by Gerard’s neck.

 

“Hmm?”

 

After a yawn, he said very casually, “Remind me tomorrow that we need to write a song about Emily.”

  
  



End file.
